Nocturne for a Lady
by finaljoy
Summary: As her grandmother's dying wish, Winry is enrolled to the most prestigious music school in the country; St. Bradley's School of Music. Along the way, she gets dragged into a type of chaos that can only come from the teenage rich and famed. (high school au)
1. Prelude

**_AN This story...this beautiful, lovely story...it started from an idea that came to me months ago, but didn't really go anywhere. And then, I started watching Brotherhood and BOOM!, my brain exploded, this thing took off, and I was left in a fangirly, obsessive and rather hoarse state over FMA until the anime ended...and then left in a vegetative depression in the wake of such incredible awesomeness. THUS THIS WAS BOOOOOOORN!_**

**_Anyways, this story takes place in the present, in a high school and revolves around music. It takes off in Resembool, and then we'll head on over to Central for the rest of our fun hijinks._**

Winry frowned at her glass, wondering how things had fallen apart so quickly. At first, she hadn't even realized she'd been tilting, Winry had only seen the crater her parents' deaths had left in her life. But then she started getting older, realizing that bad things would continue to happen, to everyone, not just the bad or mean people in the world. Saints were hit with stones just as often as criminals were caught by bullets.

With this realization came her grandmother's cancer. Pinako Rockbell, a renowned mechanic and wonderful grandmother, had died at age eighty-two, leaving her granddaughter all alone. Pinako Rockbell had done a very good job of hiding the truth from Winry. She'd really just thought it was some mild illness, up until her grandmother started throwing up violently. When she asked the doctor who had come to check on her grandmother, he looked at her strangely.

"Winry, it's cancer. People vomit blood when they have cancer in the lining of their stomach."

That's when Winry noticed the way things had started to list to the side. Things just...weren't the _same_ afterwards. She knew Pinako had only been trying to save her from the constant heart ache, but in this instance, Winry would much rather have been told in the beginning. But she'd cope. Winry had been told, and she'd help her grandmother in any ways she could.

If Pinako had had her way, she would have seen Winry out of college and into a sound marriage before telling her going, and that was what was going to happen, but apparently cancer didn't care about what an old lady wanted.

Before she knew it, her only remaining relative was laying next to her parents, leaving Winry all alone in that house. Alone except for the mocking, happy memories and a workshop full of automail.

And yet, when her world was shattered and falling into oblivion, her only real friend, a woman named Harry, was refusing to sell her alcohol_._

"Kid, fix your face. It'll get stuck like that, and then what?" Winry was sitting at the bar Harry owned, staring into a cup of a regrettably virgin drink. Harry was a staunch law abiding citizen, much to Winry's chagrin. She didn't _need_ a clean record and a sober system. What she needed was a bottle of vodka and a few dozen things to vent her anger on.

"And then I'll look how I feel?"

"No, you'll look like crap, feel like crap and turn into an old biddy besides. No guy wants to kiss a woman who's moody, depressed _and_ wrinkled. That's just too much for anyone. Plus, I don't let little angst-muffins hang around my bar."

Winry cracked a smile at the term 'angst-muffin', thinking it was only something Harry would come up with. The smile was a little too fleeting to be real, but she had worn it frightfully often since her grandma had passed. Winry just couldn't help herself, no matter how much she knew that her late family would hate to see her so depressed.

"Kid...how have you been?" Harry asked, frowning as she polished a glass, and Winry decided to watch her rag spin round and round rather than meet her eyes. It was getting late, almost ten thirty, and she knew that she had better get going or else the creeps would come out to play, which worried Winry, even when she had a decent sized wrench in her hand.

She sighed, putting her head in her hand.

"My family's dead, I've been spending my vacant hours at a bar instead of behind my work desk and I have been fighting depression. Frankly, I've been doing awful."

There was silence, except for the slight squeak as Harry ran her cloth around the glass once more, setting it down between them.

"Winry..." the bartender started, the sighed, stopped talking and decided to look around the bar that had become so familiar to Winry. The Grape Vine, a small, quiet place that had been so cleverly named by a second generation drunk years back. Still, it was clean, it was warm, and it didn't hold a single trace of Winry's family, which was good.

"I just...I want to forget it all," Winry whispered softly, closing her eyes against the prickle of tears. "I'm tired of feeling so down, you know?"

"Booze isn't going to make that any better," Harry said casually, wiping off a section of the counter between them. Winry made a face at her, stopping immediately when the woman looked back up. "Honestly, what would your parents say if I let you become a _drunk_? There's no one else to take care of you, 'cept me, and don't give me that speech," she said, stopping all of Winry's protests before they even left her mouth. "Yeah, I know, you're Miss Independent of, what was it? Fifteen years! Ding ding ding, we have a lucky winner. You're officially old enough to be carted off to an orphanage for three years, unless someone of age can vouch for you! And guess what? That person is _me._"

Harry was a good friend of the Rockbell's, and had gotten pretty close with Winry after her parents died. When Pinako passed, it was her job to make sure that Winry kept eating, going to school and made sure the light bills were being paid. Winry was pretty sure Pinako had made Harry swear that she'd take care of Winry, in case the woman's sense of honor suddenly failed. Her grandmother probably knew that Winry would stop caring if she wasn't around.

Winry sighed, looking around the Grape Wine, glad that it was empty except for her and a man in the corner, nursing beer he'd been working on for a few hours and listening intently to the radio. She didn't like losing her composure in front of a tavern full of people. They all thought that she was tough little Winry, who ate bolts for breakfast and was doing perfectly fine since her grandmother died. To them, the only reason she had started coming to the Grape Vine was because she didn't have anyone left to tell her not to.

"...You've got, what, three years of school left?"

"Yeah." Winry looked back at Harry, wondering what this was about.

"And you're not allowed any inheritance until you're eighteen, right?"

"Mm-hm. I'm surviving off of the monthly allowance the bank sends me. I had to learn _real quick_ how to budget things, or else the lights would get cut or I wouldn't have enough food or whatever. It's getting better, though. I'm just glad school started. Now I have a reason to go out of the house."

Harry nodded put away a shelf of cups.

"Do you still remember how to play the piano?"

Winry blinked, nodded. Her parents had made her go to piano lessons since she was five, but when they died, she had lost all the desire to continue, and Pinako hadn't had the heart to make her keep going. She had kept playing, for a while, but when Winry had learned of her grandmother's cancer, she quit. There wasn't any room for her wasting time on a piano when there were chores that needed to be done.

"Winry...your grandmother, before she died, she told me that...you have another option. You can stay here...or you can go to St. Bradley's School of Music, in Central."

Harry didn't look at her as she said this, and Winry just stared at her for a few seconds, blinking as she tried to make sense of this. St. Bradley's was a prestigious music school, where rich people sent their children to keep up appearances, make new allies, learn more about their enemies, this that and the other. In other words, it was _not_ a place for Winry.

"_What?"_ she finally asked, and Harry sighed, looking at her.

"Kid, you're killing yourself out here. There's no light in your eyes, your humor's gone, and you're withering away. You need to do something different, you need to..._get away_, just for a little bit."

"Harry, this is my home! I'm not going to run away because I...because I'm not strong enough to handle this!" Winry slammed her hand down on the bar, making the man in the corner look around. After a moment, he turned back to face the wall, not wanting to get involved.

"You said you wanted to forget it all, right? Then just take a break."

"In Central? Where the spoiled and pampered play? Not likely! Even _if_ I did chose to go, how am I ever going to fit in there? I'm from the middle of nowhere, and I'm not some musical genius! I can't..._play_ music from just glancing at the score! I can't conjure up a tune that makes everyone swoon! I'm just good at mechanics, and a fat lot of good _that's_ going to do me."

"There's more automail in Central," Harry pointed out. "Expensive stuff, too. I'm sure you can find someone to take you in-"

"It's not about the automail, Harry!" Winry jumped down from her stool, more anger flaring in her than she'd felt in a long time. She thought Harry knew how she felt, knew that Winry couldn't just ditch Resembool like a bad sock, ditch her _family _like they didn't matter! Winry also had the problem of not knowing_ anything _about Central. She'd only been there once or twice, and that was when she was a kid, passing through the train station. She would have _no idea_ about what to do once she got there.

"Look, I'm not saying that you _have_ to go. It's just an option, one that _your granny_ made, not me. Just...take the packet. She gave it to me, just in case." Harry hurried into the back room, coming out a moment later.

"Here," she said, sliding a folder over to Winry. She glared at it, folded her arms.

"Oh, and Pinako wanted me to mention this." Harry closed her eyes, tilting her head back, trying to remember. "If you go...your room and board will be mostly covered by a scholarship, but...but everything else will be covered by a fund she set up with the school." The woman clicked her fingers, smiling a little. "Apparently, your wee grandma did quite a lot with St. Bradley's, favors, deals, sponsoring, stuff like that. And you won't be as 'outclassed' as you think. Come on, kid. Your parents are two top-class doctors, and your grandma is a ridiculously famous automail mechanic."

"_Was._ She _was_ an automail mechanic."

"Still famous, though. You know they're naming a new model after her?"

"Yeah, I heard. The _Rockbell T-15, _the most compact and heavy duty automail yet. Briggs' stuff won't have a _thing_ on her." Winry gave a rather watery chuckle, then bit her lips to keep back the tears.

They stood in silence, Harry looking at her in that 'Go ahead and do what your grandma wants' kind of way, until Winry sighed, snatching up the folder.

"Fine, I'll look at the stupid thing! But-"

"No promises. That's alright with me. Your grandma just wanted you to know that there was always another option. But, if you decide to go, you have to stay there. No skipping out a few months in. You go for keeps, until you're done with high school."

Winry pursed her lips, waving as she walked out of the bar, pulling her coat close. Of course she would have to stay for three years, that was just typical. But still...Winry _was_ interested.

She'd never admit it to anyone, but she was kind of glad that her grandma had known her so well. Winry would never have just walked out on her hometown, even if she was in such a terrible state. But this way...when given a back door, of sorts... She'd consider it, at least. Her opinions on St. Bradley's still stood, of course, not much could change that, but it _was_ a way out.

After stumbling down the road to her house, Winry rummaged around in her pocket, trying to find her key. She quickly unlocked the door, wishing it wasn't so cold as she shimmied on the doormat, trying to keep warm. Winry flicked on a light as she entered her house, dropping down in a chair. Winry looked balefully at the kitchen, wondering how it managed to feel so _empty._ Even though the relics of her grandmother were still there, it didn't feel Pinako had ever crossed the threshold. And without her strong presence...the whole place felt hollow.

She dropped the folder from St. Bradley's on the table, frowning at it a few moments before sighing and opening it.

Her first conclusion of the place seemed to have been correct. The pamphlet she picked up portrayed manicured grounds, what was practically a castle that boasted a million classes, lecture halls and other rooms and an _army_ of beaming faculty. The dorms looked promising though, like a place that she could actually live in. Winry continued to glance over the papers her grandmother had assembled, which, upon further inspection, showed that St. Bradley's wasn't just a playground for the rich. It had a record of exceptional students, and had high requirements for graduating. She wasn't too worried about her grades, she'd always been a hard worker, and Winry always thought that it was much harder to fail a class than pass it.

Food wouldn't be a problem, as it was covered by the school, but the music...that might be a problem for her. Since St. Bradley's focused on music, each student needed to 'major' on a specific instrument, piano, trumpet, percussion, what ever suited her fancy, but she also had to take a variety of other lessons on theory, musical history and other general knowledge classes along with her usual studies.

Just about every musical instrument known to man was taught in the school, but she wasn't too sure as to what _she_ would do. The piano standards were much higher than other instruments, and was one of the few instruments that actually required an audition to enter into the program. Only the best would be taken in, it seemed. The problem for Winry though, was that she didn't know how to play anything else. Sure, she was good at the piano, but she hadn't played in ages, and her education would pale immensely when compared to the tutoring St. Bradley's students would have received.

There was always voice, though. Winry enjoyed singing, and from what she guessed, it was one of the easier courses, as it didn't require muscle memory, a certain body type, and no other nit picky things that were always part of the instrument package. But of course, that was easier in the St. Bradley's sense.

Finally, when her eyes were stinging and facts about the grounds, library hours and how the staff was always willing to help!, she stumbled across a flier, folded in half on bright yellow paper.

_Garfeil Autoshop-there for all your mechanical needs! _boasted the front, in large, bold letters. Interested, she glanced down the page, then smiled, pleased that her grandmother had thrown in the last little detail to clinch the deal.

_Includes automail tailoring and engineering._

Winry stood up, flicked off the light and hobbled to her room. Pinako hadn't really needed to include the flier, Winry was tempted enough as it was. But her grandmother had tossed the automail in as a gift, something to sweeten her time there.

_**AN Ah, it was kind of awkward kicking this off. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with writing for FMA yet...but I shall be soon! Now, tell me what you think, and what you expect from this story. I have so much planned, I can hardly even say.**  
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	2. First Cue

_**AN Oh, this chapter was a fun one to write! I would have had it up sooner, but it kept getting deleted, and that kind of kills the desire to **__**finish the story. XD But, it's here now, so enjoy!**_

Despite her best efforts, Winry's bags refused to be packed.

She had tried time and time again, fitting in first her dressy clothes and then casual, everyday wear, and then the toiletries and then the miscellaneous things that she'd undoubtedly want when she was in St. Bradley's (she'd had to stop a few times to really picture herself there, with little success), and then reversing the order, stretching it out over three bags, instead of just two, trying to fit things in her back pack and about a dozen other ways, but her things just wouldn't _fit._

Swearing to herself, she kicked her bed frame, a habit that she found extremely liberating when it came to expressing her rage. Before going, her grandmother had bestowed a new and improved set of curse words upon her granddaughter, which Winry had yet to find an occasion to use them all.

Winry ran a hand through her hair, yanking it all back into a ponytail. When she pulled _all_ of her hair up, things got serious.

Over the last few days, Winry had been working herself to the _bone,_ trying to take care of everything that needed to be sorted out. She had to clean the house, alert the bank that she was going to stay in Central for the next two years, actually writing to the school to say that she was going to be enrolling (Winry had received a rather long winded reply saying that they would be thrilled to have her, along with yet _another_ sheaf of papers including a map of the grounds, a schedule and a note saying that a representative would meet her at the station), take care of all the favors she had yet to fulfill, finish all the automail on her docket _and_ tell everyone she was leaving. Doing all of this required her to skip school twice, go without meals until she almost collapsed (she had been going through town when Harry found her, weak kneed and dizzy. After Harry figured out what was going on, delivered a very stern lecture on how if she didn't eat, Winry would _die,_ and after she defended herself that it was out of the good intentioned neglect of preparing for her trip, not out of stupidity, the bartender took pity on her and delivered a very large picnic basket full of on the go food.), as well as going through the arduous task of telling Harry her decision. The woman refused to let it be the simple task Winry had imagined, where she'd walk in, say that she was going to Central, and Harry give her a good natured nod and an offer to help her pack. No, instead Harry had given her twenty-five minutes' worth of guff, mimicking Winry for half the bar to hear.

Thankfully, though, Pinako had again shown incredible foresight in setting up a plan with the bank, bill company and just about every other nit-picky and difficult thing that would be immediately set into action should Winry decide to go to St. Bradley's. She'd even gone so far as to offer the house to Harry until Winry finished with her schooling. Harry had accepted, as the house, though farther from town, was an exceptional improvement over her own sad apartment in town.

Still, Winry was left with more than she thought decent. More than once she'd wished for some brilliant plan established by her grandmother to appear, telling her what to take with her. However, Pinako, having a very cruel sense of humor, left all the hard work to her granddaughter. Had she been around, Winry as sure she would tell her to suck it up, put on her big girl panties and deal with it like a Rockbell.

_Fine Grandma, I'll deal. But when did I get so much **crap?** _Winry scowled as she carried yet another armful of useless knick-knacks to the trashcan, wondering what on _earth_ had possessed her to collect the shelves and shelves of what now seemed like dead-weight to her.

But, at long last, after almost a week of heavy duty cleaning, organizing, battling with a room full of clutter, temperamental neighbors, suitcases a snooty ticket agent and one rather horrifying episode with a cat and the molding contents of a trashcan, Winry was ready to move.

She lingered in her freakishly spotless kitchen, suddenly..._afraid_ to walk out her front door. It felt like a goodbye that she'd never be able to undo. Winry knew that if she went to Central, she'd come back...different. Not the same Winry.

"Hey kid, you gonna stand there all day?" Winry looked up to see Harry standing akimbo in the doorway, giving her a soft smile. "You know your train leaves at ten. You gotta get down to the station soon."

"You know, I'd have so much more time if you just bought a _car._"

"Yeah yeah, we're not all made of cash, you know." Winry made a face at her, then fell back to looking around the room.

"I'm...I'm kind of scared, Harry. I don't want to leave this place."

"Okay, come on, I'm not going to blow the place up." She nodded in agreement, thinking that Harry was probably the most level headed person she'd ever know. Nothing short of a bomb would really disrupt the house in Harry's care.

Harry ran a hand through her short brown hair, then opened the front door.

"Winry, you know this place isn't going to change by the time you come back, right?"

"But...what if _I _do? What if...I don't belong here anymore?"

"Would it be any different if you went off to college and came back to find this place is some sad little speck in the boonies?"

"Yes, because if that were the case, my grandma would be here to welcome me." Winry felt tears prick her eyes, and looked away, blinking. She wasn't going to cry over this, not something so stupid and trivial.

"It'll be the same," Harry said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You'll just have that new, strange and frightening wizardry called _technology_ on your side when you come back. If you're not careful, some of our...ah...more _traditional_ minded citizens might campaign you as a witch."

"No one would burn me at the stake," Winry laughed, wiping her eyes quickly for good measure. "Who'd keep all the automail in shape? No one's going to come out here, and they know it!"

"Hey now, don't go getting cocky!"

They paused, and Winry took a breath, reshouldering her bag.

"You ready?"

"Yup, I'm...I'm going to Central." She laughed, feeling kind of giddy. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep making her loopy, she'd hardly had four hours of sleep last night, with all of her anxious tossing and turning.

"You gonna sleep on the train? I don't want our only representative acting like a dope when she's met by her landing party."

"Yeah, I'll sleep."

"Alright. Got your toothbrush, your favorite books, an album from home...?"

"Harry, we never scrapbooked," Winry said flatly, tossing her free hand at the cork board nailed to the wall. She'd picked over the pictures, stuffing them in a notebook for safe keeping. "The best we had was that thing."

"Oh, that's right, silly me, I was supposed to give that to you!" The girl stared at Harry as she opened her bag and pulled out a thick leather bound book. Winry gaped, feeling her tears start again.

"Made by the whole town, just for you."

"No...no, you've got to be kidding me," Winry said softly, taking it from Harry's hands.

"Nope. They must have realized just how much you were worth when they figured out that they'd have to go aaaaaaaaall the way over to Trent to get their automail fixed."

Winry was glad that Harry put such a cynical look on this, as any more sappy words would have turned her into a slightly frazzled puddle. She was doing good to keep from sobbing as it was. Winry looked over the book, opening the front cover to see that the inside was littered with the signatures and notes of the residents of Resembool.

"How did they make it so fast?" she breathed, shaking her head.

"Wrangling up some good, well, they're not all good, let me tell you, but definitely memorable and sweet photos wasn't too hard, and then we had as many people sign it as we could. You'll be missed kid, don't you _dare_ tell yourself different. I've worked too hard on that thing for you to blow yourself off."

"Thank you!" Winry gasped, hugging Harry. The bartender paused, then hugged her back.

"Just don't forget us out here in the boonies, alright? You can't go on and never come back."

"Of course not."

"And you need to write!" Harry added, pulling away from Winry. "At least twice a month, if not every week. And don't send me one of those dead, electronic things! You have to _hand write_ me, each time! They won't count, otherwise."

"Forget everyone else, _that's_ positively medieval!" Winry protested, laughing and wiping at her face again. "I can't email you?"

"No, not at all. If you can clack at a keyboard, you can find the time to grab a pen and scribble me a note." She nodded, grinning, so incredibly thankful she had someone like Harry to see her off. Things didn't seem so bad, this way.

"Now get on, kid. You'll miss your train and waste all these good feelings, because I will _not_ be happy if you built it all up only to have to wait another day because you were too dumb to leave on time."

"Alright," she said, nodding at the kitchen one last time and readjusting her grip on her suitcases. "Alright. I'm going. But this isn't it!" she said, more to herself than anything. "I'm coming back here, and I'm gonna fix up every _scrap_ of automail you guys neglected while I was gone!"

"Attagirl," Harry said, waving at her. Winry walked down the steps, tossing her hand up for a final wave before heading out. This was it. These were her first steps to something different, something new.

_Goodbye, Grandma, Mom, Dad. I'm gonna be gone for a while, but don't worry. I'll come back as soon as I can._

Winry hitched a ride to the train station on the back of a hay cart, making the most of the moment. She knew that she wouldn't have another chance like this one, to cry freely without anyone watching her. Winry wiped her face, wishing goodbyes weren't so scary, and watched the still-green hay fly off of the back of the cart.

She got off the cart when the road forked, smiling and calling goodbye to the cart driver. Winry then dragged her bags to the small train station on the edge of Resembool. She got on the train, glancing around the mostly empty car and adjusting her bags in the wracks about her seat. Winry sat down, feeling odd at being so _still _after a week of constantly moving around. She'd hardly even stopped to sleep, she'd been so that she was sitting down, however, Winry felt all the tension holding her together slide right out of her. It hardly took five minutes' worth of train rocking to send her to sleep.

Winry woke up a couple hours later, jerking up right. She gasped for a moment, blinking and trying to figure out where she was. The landscape gliding past the windows wasn't the comforting green hills of home. The land was flat, with a few houses and trees appearing here and there. And in the distance...Winry thought she could make out the haze of Central.

She felt the thrill of excitement, straightening a little in her seat. Winry blinked away her tiredness, deciding to watch the people sharing the train car with her. There was an elderly couple, a harassed looking business man and a family of rather rambunctious boys. The mother was trying desperately to get them to be quiet and sit down, as there wasn't much left of the ride, but wasn't really succeeding. Winry smiled a little, thinking back to her own childhood. Her parents had been stern, but kind, making sure that she knew her manners and was always willing to help those in need.

Winry took a breath, hoping that kindness would be enough to get her through St. Bradley's.

A female voice came over the intercom, saying that they'd be in Central in approximately eight minutes.

Winry swallowed, gathering up her things, though she really didn't have much to gather, just a couple of papers and her bag. When they came into the city, Winry was shocked by how _much_ there was of everything. The city just seemed to go on and on, and there were enough people running around to make Winry feel claustrophobic. She frowned when she realized that she sounded like a country bumpkin coming into the big bad city for the first time. Which she was.

The train slid into a station that was much larger than the one in Resembool, and she worried for a moment about finding the St. Bradley's representative. Biting her lips, she dug in her bag for the paper that explained what she'd do when she reached Central. Winry skimmed it for about the dozenth time, telling herself not to be stupid and to just go look for them.

She walked towards the doors, frantically scanning the masses of people holding signs for her name, or possibly the name of her new school. To her relief, she found a large hand written signing proclaiming both relatively quickly, making towards it. There were two men waiting for her, one holding the sign and the other standing at attention like he was a military official.

"Ah, Miss Rockbell, I assume?" The one not holding the sign held out his hand and a polite smile. Winry forced herself to look at his intense eye, and not the forbidding black eyepatch. Not only did it remind her of home, which threatened tears, it was also rude.

"Uhm, yes. Winry Rockbell." She shook his hand, trying not to seem so nervous.

"King Bradley, headmaster of St. Bradley's School of Music." Winry held in a gasp-she'd never guessed that he would come greet her himself. Aside from that, the headmaster of St. Bradley's was supposedly very powerful. When she'd gone around to her friends in Resembool, they'd told her of the advantages she'd have if she'd gotten to know the staff, specifically the headmaster. He had connections with just about every important person in the country, including in the government. Winry didn't know how the headmaster of a music school (and not even a college, at that) had such relations, but she figured it was best to get on his good side, either way.

The man holding the sign nodded at her and gave a curt "Antton Storch, Miss Rockbell. Pleasure to meet you," before taking her luggage and following after Bradley, who had started towards the main doors. Winry adjusted her hold on the remaining suitcase and followed after them.

They exited the station, making Winry blink in the bright sunlight. The two men lead her to a sleek black car, and Bradley opened the door for her, making a small bow. Winry flushed a little, letting Storch take her suitcase and put it in the trunk. She got in the car, taking a breath and smoothing her skirt self-consciously as Bradley walked around the back of the car.

"So, Miss Rockbell, even though you've hardly had time to absorb the sights, what are your first thoughts of Central?" he asked as Storch got in the front seat.

"Well...it's certainly more crowded than Resembool. I'm actually just glad that I made it here safely. I don't really do a lot of traveling," she admitted shyly. Bradley gave her a gracious smile, which helped settle her nerves.

"I also am kind of worried about fitting in. I mean, the expectations are totally different at St. Bradley's."

"Nonsense, a bright and musical girl like yourself? St. Bradley's is lucky to have you."

_So...he's been trained to speak like a diplomat,_ she thought, feeling suddenly worried at the emphasis on 'musical'. Of course, St. Bradley's _was_ a music school, after all, but the image of her thrown in with an entire school full of musical proteges absolutely terrified her. Winry's musical skills seemed paltry and over assuming when compared to _that._

"Now, I'm sure you have questions, bu I'll try to cover them before we start. St. Bradley's is a prestigious school devoted not only to music, but also to training the next generation's upperclass.

"Upperclass?" Winry asked, though she really wanted to ask about the 'training' comment.

"Of course. St. Bradley's is not only rigorous academic-wise. The school is also a home for the children of politicians, military officials, the famed, the fourtuned, the socialites, they all are gathered and taught to keep the system going."

"And...what does St. Bradley's teach?" The car had joined the throng of traffic as they headed down the main roads, drawing Winry's eyes to the windows. The skyscrapers sprang up from the ground, demanding her awe, and the crowds of people, all going their separate ways like they were the oblivious to everyone else made her stare. She forced herself to look back at Bradley who had started listing off classes.

"Aside from the typical core classes, there is also an extra set of lessons focusing on social behaviours that aren't electives. Manners, etiquette, law, among several others. We want our students to be well prepared."

Winry nodded, thinking that this sounded suspiciously like a playground for the pampered. Winry didn't know a single person who really needed all of those classes to get along in life, and that wasn't even counting the electives. In the packet Pinako had assembled for her, Winry had seen a condensed list of the classes St. Bradley's offered, among which were five languages, at least six different culinary classes, the predictable range of music classes and a set of art classes. But not mechanics. That one had hurt Winry, which was probably why her grandmother had included the flyer for Garfiel's. Harry had been irritated with this fact as well

"All that money and they can't even put in a measly little mech shop!" she'd said, disgusted. "Don't worry kid, I'm sure those stuffed shirts couldn't teach you squat anyways."

He continued on explaining the school to her, the classes, professors, certainly hours she needed to be aware of, as well as offering a few tips and tricks for when she was actually enrolled. She listened intently, even though a decent part of her was dwelling on how _scared_ she was at actually being in Central. Winry exhaled, trying to calm herself. The closer the car got to the school, the more jittery she became until her leg started jerking for no reason.

"Would you like some water, Miss Rockbell?" Winry nodded, glad for something to do with her hands, even if it was just drinking some water. She sipped from the bottle he gave her, glancing back out the window as he resumed his speech. A few minutes passed and then she felt the car slow to a halt. Winry jerked, shocked to find herself outside of the school already.

She got out, unable to keep from staring at her new home. Even though she was only seeing one side of the school, Winry could tell the place was huge. The grounds of St. Bradley's included the main building, several dorms, two separate recital halls, a gym and a few other buildings for the various classes, and that didn't even count the large grounds, full of green in the concrete jungle.

A large imperial wall separated the musically gifted from the chaos of the capital, much taller than Winry, which was made only more apparent as she moved off the road and onto the sidewalk before it. An equally large gate broke up the mass of brick, a friendly opening to visitors.

Storch had opened the trunk while she stared, and was now offering her one of her suitcases. She took it, thanking him distantly. Bradley had gotten out as well, and was now checking his watch.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Miss Rockbell, but I have a rather pressing wedding to go to. However, Storch can take you to the main office, and from there, a student representative shall come to guide you through the school."

"No problem," Winry said, smiling. "Thank you for the help you've given me already."

"It's my honor and my duty," he said, giving her a curt bow. She couldn't help herself from waving as he left, heading through the gates. Winry huffed a little, trailing after him to see the face of the main building. A short road lead up to the front doors, lined with manicured trees and perfect green lawns. Storch stood beside her, her other two trunks in hand.

"Are you ready?" he asked gently, and she nodded, feeling all of her fear concentrate in her chest. And yet...despite all that fear, Winry felt the thrill of excitement at this wonderful adventure about to unfold before her.

_**AN Oh, she's at St. Bradley's! THIS REQUIRES SOME SERIOUS CELEBRATION. That aside, are you guys ready to have some musical fun? I am! 8D**_

_**okay i'll stop being a dork now.**_

_**But, the next chapter shall introduce some more characters, and then we can get down into the darker, grittier things of the high society.**_


	3. Divisi

_**AN Oh, this chapter was tough to write! Half way through I realized I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to happen. I had a vague idea, but that was about it. Thankfully though, I managed to power through it!**_

Roy pressed the girl to him, kissing her a little harder. He didn't know how long they'd been making out, but he did know that she certainly knew what she was doing. Roy also knew that she was probably trying to toy with or use him,which he had found rather amusing. Still, when she'd pulled that pouty face and talked about how she had absolutely nothing to do because of a free period and a canceled flute lesson, he'd figured why not. It'd been so long since he'd had a good make out session.

At the back of his mind, however, he felt that awful nagging voice that told him that he really shouldn't be doing this. He had people to make nice with, classes to prepare for, and a list of other things to do, most of which were not kissing some chick he'd met earlier in the week.

_It doesn't help that the voice sounds like Riza,_ Roy thought as the girl tugged at his hair. Thinking about Riza while he was with other girls complicated things.

He decided to squash the prioritized, decent part of him for the moment and enjoy the fact that this girl's lips tasted _delicious_. Vaguely he heard footsteps, and felt his heart sink. Was it a teacher? A spurned ex? Some random student who had come here to practice and had somehow missed two people making out very loudly at the end of the aisle? Or was it...

_Please don't let it be her. Please don't let it be please don't let it be please don't let it be-_

Someone cleared their throat beside them, and Roy sighed, trying to disengage the girl before things got messy. The girl didn't seem to notice his sudden reluctance nor the newcomer, probably because she was very absorbed in trying to undo his collar a little more than she already had. He pulled her hands away, a sad and spectacularly futile move as they were both rumpled, he had his hand halfway up her shirt, and that the girl was practically in his pants as it was.

There was a sharp _click!_, eerily similar to the sound of a gun hammer being drawn back, making the girl remove her mouth from Roy's jaw. She looked around, and stared at Riza Hawkeye, who was standing casually by the two of them, quietly emanating disapproval. The association of the click and Riza's presence seemed to connect in her head, as she was gone in five seconds flat, mumbling out some unintelligible excuse to no one in particular.

Riza waited until the girl had left the hall before she spoke.

"You promised you wouldn't do this again."

"You promised you wouldn't scare girls by making them think you had a gun in your hand," he countered, looking pointedly at the compact in her hand. She had mastered a way of closing it that made it sound like a gun being loaded, which he had to admit was pretty impressive. She shrugged, as if that didn't really matter, but he noticed her grip on the compact had tightened. Riza adjusted her stance so she was standing akimbo, one hand gripping the compact and the other holding a clipboard. Roy straightened, trying to find some discreet way of buttoning his pants. Didn't matter, though. It was Riza Hawkeye standing in front of him, not some ill-fated teacher. She didn't miss a thing.

"Roy, you said yourself, _this needs to stop._ You're not going to get anywhere if all people see in you is a playboy who just uses people," she finished, a hard edge creeping into her voice. He pursed his lips, thinking that he had been Riza at that moment, his choice of words would have been closer to '_sleazy manwhore'_.

It was true though, whatever words were used. Roy was currently trying to escape the image that he had so thoughtlessly created over almost the last four years, in order to gain enough favor of becoming the student body president the following year. He had done pretty well in his opinion, as most people thought well of him, but there were still some who didn't believe that he had reformed, and when he considered the fact that he'd just snuck away with some girl to, at the very least, make out in a recital hall, he could hardly blame them.

"Who was she, anyways?" Riza asked after a pause.

"Her name was Valerie Price," Roy said shortly, still slumped against the rail. "How did you find us, by the way?"

"I figured that you'd try to be a little more discreet this time, so I checked all of the closed practice rooms and recital halls. Plus you left the door cracked," she said, and he sighed again.

"I was _so careful,_ though," he lamented, running a hand through his hair. "I made sure we didn't have anything going on, I picked a secluded place, made sure she wasn't dating anybody..."

Riza didn't respond, and he squirmed, trying to avoid her accusatory glare.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Roy asked after a moment.

"No."

"What can I say," he said softly, cocking his head and reaching out to pinch her tie. "I have a thing for blondes." Roy slid the tie down through his fingers, and Riza pulled away, face unreadable.

"We have other things to do, sir," she said, and he felt the word like a slap. _Sir._ Riza never called him 'sir', it was always just 'Roy', but lately she had made it very clear that formality was what she wanted.

"Like what," he demanded irritably. It wasn't just when he was around other girls that the thought of Riza made him upset, it was starting to be all the time.

"Well, there's a new student here, and they want you to escort her around the grounds. In fact, she just got here a few minutes ago." Riza consulted the clipboard in her hand, flipping a page as they started walking back towards the door.

"She's from Resembool, and is going to be specializing in...voice."

"Resembool? That's quite a ways to go. You said she came in only a few minutes ago?"

"Yes. She's in the front office getting things straightened out as we speak."

"Ah-huh..."

"Her name's Winry Rockbell, she's going to be a second year, and-"

"Wait. Rockbell as in..._Pinako_ Rockbell? That amazing mechanic everyone's raving on about?"

"Don't forget one of St. Bradley's gracious financial backers. Pinako Rockbell's done a lot for the school in the past. Apparently though, she died a few weeks ago. I'm guessing that's why Winry's here now, but whether it's her grandmother's dying wish or some other reason, we can't tell."

"Might as well ask her. Get to know her, make her feel more comfortable," he said, and Riza shot him a look. He gave her a perfectly innocent face, and she looked ahead, lips lifting just slightly into the smile he liked to think was reserved just for him.

"She's not an asset, she's a person, Roy," she said, sounding slightly exasperated, though he knew full well that Riza had done just the same when she had heard about Winry. One more person aligned with him meant he was one step closer to becoming headmaster.

From the moment he'd been accepted to St. Bradley's, Roy had been planning to become the headmaster of the school. Seeing the power that King Bradley wielded enamored him, and he'd realized that he didn't have to take office or become a wealthy diplomat to be of influence. All he really had to do to make a major difference in the world was become the headmaster of St. Bradley's School of Music. Of course, the desire had started out as a rather selfish one, but not long after establishing it, Roy had decided that there were so many things he could improve for society as a whole, and not just himself.

But, in order to become headmaster, he'd have to become a fifth year student first. Unlike other high schools, where having five years was a bad thing, St. Bradley's honored their fifth year students. They were the elite, generally because of their musical skill or grades. It was rather like a cross between having an internship and going to college, as a fifth year would still have classes, but they would also have more privileges and chances to speak with professors and other people of note. Fifth years were rare, only a handful came every few years, and only fifth years went on to be headmaster.

So far, only people of the Bradley line had become the leader of the school, not because of favoritism, but because Bradley's were notorious for having woefully high standards. Standards that they always met, if not exceeded. Roy planned to be the first person out of the Bradley family to become headmaster, and to be a fantastic one at that.

Part of his plan rested on winning the favor of the students, which he intended to do by becoming the student body president. If he became a figurehead for the school, chances were, more people would like him, and would boost his chances of becoming a fifth year, so long as he didn't act like a royal prick.

Roy had also decided to gather up a group of close friends and followers, as it never hurt to have the support of those who were truly loyal to him. Every person he managed to pull towards him had something that would help him in the long run, whether it was a talent or a set of connections or the like. He figured that this Winry girl, with her ties to St. Bradley's, wouldn't be a bad addition

They walked out of the building, Roy blinking at the harsh sunlight.

"Have you met her yet?"

"No. But she should be rather easy to spot, don't you think?" Riza asked, riffling through her bag. Roy watched her hands for a moment, knowing full well that she had a gun, as well as a license in there. Riza didn't really talk about her firearm prowess, or even the fact that she was legally allowed to carry one, but the fact, or at least, the rumor had spread like wildfire from her very first month on campus. Roy suspected that Havoc had something to do with it, but he had never actually looked into it.

"Yeah, I guess." Roy smiled brightly at a passing teacher, and Riza gave him a polite nod, which he returned. Once he was out of earshot, they continued their conversation.

"Rockbell...Rockbell...do you think she knows anything about mechanics? Or is she just walking in the shadow of her grandmother?"

"Who knows? Ideally, yes, but we both know a living example of a person who refuses to take over the family business," she said casually, and he couldn't help giving a smirk. Riza was always slipping in jests like that. Her humor really was rather extensive, it was just a subtler, more private chuckle inducing kind. Most people just wrote it off as sarcasm or her really not caring.

"Yes well, it's hardly a _family business,_ now is it, Hawkeye? Just something my beloved foster mother picked up."

"Right."

He glanced at her, and was pleased to find that she had the slightest of smiles on her face.

The two of them entered the main office, Roy peering in to get an early look at the new girl. She was standing at the front desk, looking rather harried and surrounded by dark blue luggage. Her hair was a light blonde, and he guessed that when she didn't look so worn and rather frantic, she rather pretty, in a kind, honest way.

"...so the schedule varies from day to day?" she asked, then sighed, running a hand through her hair. From the odd looking clump of sticking straight out, he could tell that she had done this repeatedly since entering the office.

"Yes dear," one of the secretaries was saying, looking equally irritated. "Thankfully you've already had your schedule decided, so now you just need to carry it around with you until you've got it all down."

"How can people memorize this?" she asked incredulously, looking down at a piece of paper on the counter. Roy walked up to Winry, who cast him a quick side glance.

"Hi," he said, smiling at her. She gave a terse 'Hi', back, and began asking another question.

"I'm Roy Mustang," he said politely, sticking out a hand. Winry turned, giving him a little more of her attention, and holding her hand out after a moment. Her gaze drifted over to Riza, then back at him.

"Winry Rockbell," she said, almost shyly. "Are you two going to be my student guides, or...?"

"Yes, well, that's actually just my job, as I'm the advanced student, but Riza's as good as anyone with a pocket watch."

"Watch...?" she asked, looking confused. Riza walked past her, getting the remaining papers the secretary needed to give Winry.

"Yes, pocket watch," Roy said, fishing out his out of his pocket. He held it up for her, and watched as her face instantly became interested. She gave him a look, practically begging him to examine it closer, and he obligingly let her take it. Roy felt a feeling of satisfaction at the thought that Winry might have inherited an interest in machinery from her grandmother.

"All of the advanced students have one," he explained. "They get more privileges than normal students, but they also get more responsibilities. If I mess up, then this little darling goes poof."

"Poof," Winry said vaguely, having opened the watch up and examining the watch face. "How is this any different from the fifth year students?" she asked after a pause.

"Well, for them it's more like college than anything, as they get a more intensive course, more teaching opportunities and it's favored on resumes, where as I'm just allowed more access to the library, practice rooms and a special dorm and lounge as well as more time outside the grounds."

"You can't just leave the school when you want?" Winry asked, looking a little worried.

"Nope. Normal students can go on weekends, but other than that they're stuck."

"I'll just leave her in your hands, then," the secretary said loudly, and Roy smiled brightly at her.

"Alright then, Margaret! Thank you for taking care of our new peer. I'm sure you gave her the feel of St. Bradley's _warm_ enthusiasm." Margaret looked like she was about say something very nasty and probably rude to Roy, but he didn't give her the chance, choosing instead to flounce out of the office, Riza and Winry in tow.

"Warm enthusiasm was hardly what I'd call it," Winry muttered.

"Of course. She may just be the most unpleasant person on the St. Bradley's staff." Riza once more cleared her throat softly, and Roy looked back at her, frowning. "Oh, I'm being rude again, aren't I?"

"Yes," Riza said, smiling slightly.

"Right. Well, Miss Winry Rockbell, this is Riza Hawkeye." Winry shifted her bags to one hand to shake Riza's hand, murmuring a quick greeting. "Without her, I would be lost."

"Completely and utterly."

"_Thank_ you, Riza. Now, Miss Rockbell, I see that a tour is in order. What dorm are you in?"

"Uhm...Clearwater?"

"Oh, those are just over there." Roy pointed at a patch of dorms near the wall, all made out of red brick. "We'll drop off your things, and then we can go on."

"Sounds great," Winry said, looking relieved. They headed up to her dorm, then waited a moment as Winry rummaged her pockets for her key.

"If I'd known that it'd been so troublesome just getting settled here, I might have thought twice..." she muttered, and then opened the door. Roy stooped to pick up her luggage, and she shot him a grateful smile.

The three of them crossed the lounge-like area in the front, pausing at yet another door that lead to a wing of the dorms.

"Normally, boys aren't allowed back here," Riza said as they passed through, Winry looking at her dorm papers. Roy smirked and pretended that the comment hadn't been meant for him, "but this time, we'll make an exception."

Winry pulled out a different key when they reached her room and opened the door, going 'Oh!' in surprise when she saw her room. It was a little smaller than Roy's dorm, but it was still pretty nice when it came to school boarding. Two beds sat juxtaposed each other, each with a night stand beside it. A large window stood at the far end of the room, covered in both blinds and thin white curtains.

He glanced at Winry, and to his surprise, she was grinning. She clasped her hands, looking from them to the room.

"Ugh, I'm so excited and nervous all at once," she said, laughing. Roy grinned as he set down her bags and shrugged while Riza nodded.

"You should be excited. You don't have a roommate, so you'll be living on your own for the first time." Her expression darkened for the briefest moment, but then her smile was back.

"Well, not on my _own,_" she said, gesturing around as if to encompass the entire building. "There are still other girls _here,_ it's not like it's my own house."

"It's close enough," Riza told her, and Roy wasn't quite sure what she was feeling under that kind smile she was wearing. Berthold Hawkeye had died three years ago, when Riza was just fourteen. Ever since then, she had been living on her own in a small house her father had owned a couple blocks from the school. Her grandfather, Professor Grumman, still paid the bills and had dropped by once a week until she turned sixteen to make sure she was doing alright. Roy imagined that, with knowing the pain of loosing family and then having to live alone without them, Riza had an affinity for Winry.

"Right," said Roy, clapping his hands together, making Winry jump. "Well, we've got all this stuff in place, ready for you to sort out when you get back. Shall we?" he asked, making a slight bow and gesturing towards the door. Winry walked past him and he straightened, earning a nudge from Riza as they walked out the door.

"Sucking up already? She's hardly been here ten minutes."

"I'm more inclined to believe that she's been here twenty. Think of Margaret's being quite possibly the most unhelpful office lady in the history of St. Bradley's, and how long it took her to send someone to find you, and then for you to find me," he countered, making her crack a smile.

They entered the hall to the front of the building, and Winry looked around, taking in how still the dorms were around them.

"Where _is_ everybody? I know it's the middle of the school day, but there must be _some_ people without lessons right now."

"There are, they just prefer not to go back to the dorms during the day. You'd be surprised," Riza said as they walked. "St. Bradley's may be a high class music school, but there are _plenty_ of things to keep people occupied."

She nodded at Riza's explanation as they went outside, and Roy guided her to the left.

"We'll be starting back at the main building," he explained, making Winry glance back down at her schedule. "So, Winry," he started, hoping to draw a little more information from her, "what instrument are you going to be focusing on?"

"Hm? Oh, actually, I'm going to be singing," she said, pocketing her schedule. He nodded like he didn't already know this, trying to look a little more interested than he really was.

"Oh, yeah? Are you going to be choral, jazz, or what?"

"Choral."

"Maybe you'll see Maria Ross," Riza said. "I'm not sure which choir she's in, but you'll get on with her. She's a nice girl."

"How many branches are there in voice?" Winry asked, tilting her head.

"Well, there's normal choir, but that's split up into Chamber and Concert, then there's jazz, a capella, opera, pop, solo, and then there's several different classes teaching quartets and duos."

She let out a huff of surprise, shaking her head.

"Do all the other instruments have that?"

"Not really. Voice marches to the beat of its own drum, where as everyone else has to be sorted into a course, like jazz band, orchestra, stuff like that. There are classes to focus on technique for one instrument, but there isn't going to be a class for, say, an alto sax quartet."

"Oh," she said, looking a little bemused, and he laughed.

"Don't worry, you'll get it in the end."

Riza opened the door to the main office, and Winry asked "So, what instruments do you guys play?"

"Roy's a trumpeter and I'm a violinist," Riza said as Roy lead them past the main office to a staircase by the front door.

"Now, the tour," he said, bringing Winry back to attention as they climbed. "There are three floors. Down on the main one is the main office, the headmaster's office and then the auditorium. On the second and third floors are the core classes..."

Roy finished the tour of the main building, making small talk with Winry the entire way. By the time they were leaving for the music building, it was obvious that she was a clever and kind person, if she had a thing for tough love. He also noticed that she was scared of coming here, for whatever reason. Winry hid it well, but he had caught the flashes of worry or fear that popped up every now and then.

He lead her past the mess hall, pointed out the two main recital halls, and then showed her the music building. Winry looked completely awed as he showed her the hall of practice rooms, the lecture halls and studios, most all with people inside them. She'd peer in one at random, watching the person play with unerring concentration, then pull away, ready for the next sight.

By the end of the tour, she looked worn out, but still excited, bouncing a little as she walked.

"I just...I can hardly believe it!" she exclaimed as they exited the music building. "I mean...I never thought I'd leave Resembool, especially not to come here, to Central! This all...it just feels like a dream."

Riza smiled at her as they cut across the lawn, and a bell rang. Winry looked around, surprised, and Roy grabbed hold of her wrist.

"Hold on, class just got out. You might want to stay close. It gets to be kind of a..."

"Mad house," Riza finished simply, and Winry had time to cast her a single confused look before all of St. Bradley's students left their classes and flooded the grounds. They were chattering, humming and fighting with each other, all hurrying to their next class. About half of them had black instrument cases with them, the sizes varying from thin black ones, the size of Roy's forearm to giant ones on wheels. Winry stared, in turn attracting several stares herself. She was the only one not wearing the St. Bradley's uniform, and stuck out like a black bird in snow.

Roy tried to navigate them to a safer place, but they were consistently jostled until the crowd dispersed into the five buildings or off to the dorms. Winry started laughing in surprise, shaking her head.

"That...that was insane!" she said, looking at a straggling boy who looked rather irritated and was carrying a clunky music case.

"Wait till you see them in the halls," Riza said, shaking her head. "That's even worse."

"Hey, Roy!"

Roy turned to see a girl with black hair jog over, waving.

"Who's this you've got?" she asked, brushing her pink bangs out of her eyes.

"Hey, Rose. This is a new student, Winry Rockbell, and she's actually staying in your dorm."

"Really? That's great!" Rose stuck out her hand, smiling at Winry. "I'm Rose Thomas. It's nice to meet you." Winry returned the greeting, smiling shyly.

"Would you mind helping her settle in?" Roy asked, and she nodded, beaming. "I'll help you finish adjusting! I can promise, there's no place like St. Bradley's; everyone's gotta get used to it." Roy waved them off, listening to Rose chatter on while Winry nodded, trying to keep up.

"Well, that was very slick of you," Riza noted, and he grinned.

"It seemed like the simplest solution. Besides, they live in the same dorm. They were bound to meet, and she'd want to help Winry unpack anyways. That's just Rose's nature."

"Ah-huh."

Roy glanced at Riza out of the corner of his eye, and noticed that her expression had turned rather stony.

"You're...still mad about earlier, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

Roy swore softly, turning back to the music building.

"What do you want me to do about it, Riza?" he asked, feeling tired all of a sudden. Couldn't she just cut him a break? He'd been good for _so long, _ it just seemed ridiculous to Roy that he couldn't have a little fun now and then.

"I want you to sincerely tell me why what you did was wrong and that you'll never do it again."

"Oh, so now you're treating me like a kid," he snapped, rolling his eyes. "Like that's going to work."

"I'm serious, Roy."

"I know, and that's the stupid bit!" He pressed his lips together, irritated at himself for having raised his voice. "Look...I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I just...I don't know, Riza. I have no idea why I went with that girl, it's just...habit."

"I know, and that's the stupid bit," she said, smiling like she understood it all. "You go and you kiss girls when you're upset or you're anxious. At least it's not just because you're bored any more."

Roy grumbled darkly, not enjoying the topic, especially since he was discussing it with her. He looked away, wondering how things had become so tense. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't even _wanted_ to kiss that girl, he just did it because that's what he always did, and he wasn't sure what would happen if he refused her. And once he got going, there was just no way to stop. He knew that from experience.

"Don't you have a history lesson right now?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from being cold.

"Yes. I think this is a little more important than modern history, though." Roy laughed darkly, looking at her.

"And how's that?"

"Roy...I've based my entire future on what you do," she said, as though he should know that. Which he did. "All of my lots are cast in with you, and if you go and screw it up..."

"Good night Vienna," he said, shifting at the mass of guilt settling on him. Riza didn't say anything, just walked with him in silence. After a few steps, Riza cleared her throat, a clear sign that she had dropped the subject.

"Well, I'll see you later," said Riza, and it hurt him how much like a question it sounded. Things had gotten so freakin' complicated with her, and no one knew. Not a soul, not Jean or Breda or _anyone_ had a clue. They just thought that he and Riza were the good friends they'd always been, if not more.

"Yeah," he grunted, running a hand through his hair. "I'm...I'm gonna go practice the trumpet, see if I can finish memorizing that Clementi piece."

"Good luck," she said, smiling, and it broke Roy's heart, thinking just how much he wanted to see that smile again.

_**AN Yay, Roy and Riza have come on scene! I adore those two so, so, so much. They bring such dynamics to the table. Next chapter we're going to see Ed, and Winry's going to start **__**classes, oh boy!**_

_**Please review, tell me your thoughts, so on and so forth.**_


	4. Rhapsody Impromptu

_**AN This chapter, like the last one, was kind of tough to get out, so I had to just let it**_**sit_ for days at a time before I could _**_**come up with any ideas. Thankfully, it's out now and**__** I'm pretty happy with where it is now. Enjoy.**_

Winry stumbled out of bed, feeling slightly delirious as her alarm screamed at her. She glanced at the time, a strike of panic and horror hitting her stomach.

_The shop! _she thought wildly, fumbling across her room, eyes half shut. _It opens in fifteen minutes!_

Winry had ripped open her closet and was already trying to force herself into a pair of jeans when she realized that, first off, she wasn't even in the same city as Rockbell's Mechanics. She froze, finally looking at her surroundings, and noticing with a swoop in her stomach that she wasn't in her room back in Resembool, but in the small, plain dorm room at St. Bradley's.

She slumped against the wall, putting a hand to her head and giving a weak little laugh, trying to ignore the pang of homesickness. Winry had made her choice to come to Central and stay at St. Bradley's until she was done with high school, and she couldn't just change her mind and run back to Resembool before even starting school.

_And think of all the work that would be worthless,_ she reminded herself, thinking of that rigorous and almost painful week of preparation she had taken. Winry _still_ felt tired, and suspected that she would for quite a while.

She glanced at the clock again, sighing slightly. Her first class started at eighty thirty, and it was seven o'clock now. It never took Winry long to get ready for school, but Rose had told her that it was best to get to the mess hall early. The girl had helped Winry unpack the day before, chattering on about how she didn't mind, that the classes were great and Winry would just _love_ it the moment she was settled.

Winry kept hearing that - _You'll love it when you're settled!_, but she wasn't interested in how she'd feel _after_ she'd adjusted. She wanted to know how she'd feel before, and just how long it'd take her to actually _get_ settled.

Pursing her lips, she rummaged through the clothes she'd hung up, trying to ignore how overwhelmed she felt. Winry found her uniform, tugged it out of the hanging bag it was in and opened a drawer, grabbing some underwear. She glanced at herself in the mirror, and frowned at the bags under her eyes. It would take a _lot_ of sleeping to get rid of those things, she was sure.

She grabbed her room key and toiletries, then stepped out, closing the door behind her and then hurrying to the bathroom across the hall. She was relieved that it wasn't occupied yet, and slipped in, flicking on the light. The bathroom, like her dorm room, wasn't very large, but it was classy, in an understated sort of way.

Winry turned on the shower, setting her clothes on the counter and taking a breath. She stripped down and stepped in the shower, adjusting the temperature a bit.

As she washed her hair, Winry tried to wish way the butterflies in her stomach, with little success. These weren't just the new school jitters, which she had endured on the first days of high school and second grade. No, the thought of going to a new school in _Central_, compounded with a bunch of high class snobs and musical geniuses and learning an abominable schedule put this first day on a whole new level.

With a sigh, she washed her body, rinsed and turned off the water. She grabbed her towel, dried off and stepped out. Winry started dressing, but paused when she reached the blouse of her school uniform. This was it. The moment she put that on...she wouldn't be able to go back. She'd be a St. Bradley's girl, a Central girl, stuck in the rather terrifying city for the next two years. She didn't know anyone, she didn't have any idea what she was supposed to do when not trying to stay ahead of the classes, Winry would have to familiarize herself with the city.

As she put the shirt on, Winry felt _very_ overwhelmed.

She brushed her hair out, pulled it back into a ponytail and brushed her teeth. Winry glanced at her worried face in the mirror, the paused, giving herself a big smile.

_Fake it 'til you make it,_ she thought, then grabbed up her stuff and hurried back to her new room. Winry packed her school bag, checking her schedule and making a plan for when to get her books. Glancing around her dorm room, she made sure she wasn't forgetting anything, slipped into her shoes, grabbed her keys and headed out.

She had forty-five minutes to eat breakfast in the cafeteria, which was connected to the main building, and then she had to go on to History. After that, she had Beginner's Guitar, an hour's worth of free time, and then there was Chamber Choir. Then she was allowed another forty-five minutes for lunch, then she had Algebra II, English II and finally PE. Winry wasn't exactly sure how she'd managed to get into a guitar class, nor how she was part of the higher choirs, but somehow, she'd managed it.

Winry sighed slightly, reshouldering her bag and staring at the ground as she walked the path to the main building. Someone called from behind her, and she turned to see Rose, running up to her and waving.

"Hey, Winry! Oh, I'm glad I managed to catch you, didn't want you to be alone on your very first day!" Winry smiled at her, waving at her and feeling immensely relieved that she'd at least have Rose to sit with at the breakfast table.

She waited for Rose to catch up, then continued walking.

"So, are you excited?" Rose asked, and Winry shrugged.

"I guess, I mean-"

"You guess? No no, no '_I guesses'!_" Rose turned, frowning at Winry. "This is _St. Bradley's! _This is what people dream about! Be _excited,_ Rockbell!" Rose grabbed Winry's upper arms and gave a strange little hop-dance while shaking her hair. Winry stared in surprise for a moment, then laughed, nodding.

"Alright, I'm excited, I'm excited!" she said, waving her hand as they walked into a side entrance of the main building. A stream of people were coming and going from them, a sure indicator of where the food was.

"I don't think I'll ever get over this," Winry said, staring at some of the people walking away, back up the grassy slope towards one of the recital halls. "I mean...people are dragging around cello cases and trombone cases and are dragging around armfuls of music and it's just ridiculous!"

Rose laughed, shaking her head.

"Well, what did you expect from a studious music school?" she asked as they walked into the cafeteria, and Rose was forced to raise her voice over the loud chatter.

"I don't even know," Winry admitted, standing in line.

Winry chatted with Rose until it she reached the counter. After surveying her options, she selected a biscuit and plate of eggs, then headed over to one of the salad bars.

The cafeteria was rather large, with several rows of tables and a few salad bars as well as a small waffle bar. People were milling about, hopping from table to table, going back for extra servings and drinks. Winry looked nervously around as she walked after Rose as she went to get a glass of milk.

"Relax," Rose said, smiling brightly at her as Winry filled a cup with apple juice. "There are new kids every year, you're just another one. St. Bradley's kids are a lot friendlier than they get credit for."

She nodded and smiled, but Winry still felt the need to follow Rose like a puppy as she stopped off at one of the salad bars, grabbing fruit and some cottage cheese and then going to sit down at a table. There were already a few people sitting there, a blonde boy chewing a toothpick, a thicker set boy and a mousy looking girl who was laughing as she nibbled on a bagel. They all said hello to Rose, and then her in turn when she was introduced.

"Hi," she said shyly as the blonde boy nodded, throwing up his hand in a wave.

"Hey, I'm Havoc," he said, flashing her a bright smile. "And this is Sheshka, Breda and oh look! Roy himself has decided to grace us with his presence!" Winry looked around, surprised to see that Roy was, in fact, walking up to them. At Havoc's words, Roy dipped into an exaggerated bow, then perched on the edge of the bench by Rose. A few moments later, he was joined by Riza, apple in hand.

"Hey, Winry! Starting to settle in?"

"Barely," she laughed, uncertainty starting to melt away with all the welcoming conversation. Her previous conceptions of St. Bradley's kids being all pompous and condescending were being proved false right and left, but there was that slight doubt at the back of her mind that wouldn't leave her alone. Roy and Riza left a few minutes later, off to find a guy called Maes Hughes, or, as Havoc put it 'Roy's wingman', and then Winry was standing up herself, going to dump her tray.

"Alright, I'll see you guys," she said, pausing at the breakfast table before heading out to History. "I've got a class to get to, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to find it in time."

"Ah, this place's a piece of cake to figure out," Breda said, waving a hand as he bit into a muffin. "Where are you going?"

"Uhm, History."

"Ahaha, I bet you have Grumman," Havoc said, smirking. Winry frowned, feeling wary.

"Grumman...?"

"He's one of the history teachers," the mousy girl, Sheska, said. "He's kind of out there, so don't be alarmed."

"And by 'out there', she really means really freakin' crazy," Havoc added in reassuringly. "Crazy and hilarious. Like, this one time, ah man, I wish you were there, he walked in dressed up as a Scotsman going off to war."

"So...?" Winry asked as Havoc started guffawing, Breda joining in.

"_So,_ he was pretty serious about his stuff. Right down to having a slight breeze riding around his lucky charms," Havoc said in a heavy Scottish accent, trying to suppress the laughter. She stared a moment, confused as the boys started laughing even harder, while Rose rolled her eyes, looking vaguely disgusted. Then it clicked, and Winry remembered that Scots traditionally didn't wear anything under their kilts. She blushed, leaning back a little, and letting out a heavy _'Oh'._

"Yup," Havoc managed to get out. "Just be careful when he leans over."

"Okay, okay!" Rose said, standing up and grabbing Winry's arm. "We're leaving. You can have your fun little juvenile jokes when we're _not_ around. Maybe you can try them out on Rebecca, instead, Havoc," she shot over her shoulder, making the boy freeze.

"That's not funny, Thomas!" he shouted after them. Winry glanced back, feeling worried.

"Is Professor Grumman _really_ going to...uhm..."

"What, dress up? No, no, don't be silly. He only did that because he lost a bet to the headmaster at the end of the year last year. And besides, it's only the second or so week of school. He's not going to do anything _really_ crazy until next semester." They walked out of the cafeteria, pushing the doors open to step out into the chilly morning air.

_Oh, good,_ she thought, not sure what 'normal crazy' meant.

A soft peppy tune went off, making her look around, confused. Rose fished a phone out of her pocket, mouthing '_Sorry!'_ to Winry as she answered it. She listened briefly then sighed, looking more than a little harried.

"Alright, I'll be there in a moment," she said, then snapped the phone closed. "Sorry Winry, but I've gotta go. Apparently someone thought they'd be funny and change all of the student council memos." Rose scowled, shaking her head. "You'd think they'd at least wait until the week ended before they played pranks!"

"No problem," Winry said, smiling waving her off. "Go do your student councilly duties."

"You can get to Grumman's class, right?"

"Yeah, Havoc and Breda set me straight."

"Okay, see you at lunch, then!" Rose waved and ran off, flipping her phone back open and dialing someone up.

Winry kept walking, looking around and taking in the scenery. She was incredibly impressed by how beautiful the grounds were. It was all tall trees and lush grass, trim hedges and simple flower beds.

"Are you Winry?" someone asked, making her look around. A small baby-faced boy fell in beside her, sticking out a hand as he walked.

"Kain Fuery," he said, smiling at her, and Winry shifted her bag to shake his hand in return. "Mustang told me you were going to History? He said he got a look at your schedule yesterday when he was showing you around."

"Oh, uhm, yeah," she said, surprised that Roy could have remembered a detail like that. "Are you headed that way, too?"

"Yeah. It's normally a second year class, but I didn't have History last year."

The two of them walked to History together, arriving a few minutes early. Winry introduced herself to her first new teacher, and decided that other than being rather energetic for an old man, he didn't seem especially strange. An hour later, Winry was heading off to her guitar class. She managed to fumble through it without too much embarrassment, but Winry had to admit, she was excited at the thought of learning how to play.

_Alright, I have an hour's worth of free time,_ she thought, deciding to move over to the practice rooms, hoping that she'd be able to brush up on her long since used skills. Even though she was there for voice, Winry had seen a note in one of the numerous pamphlets her grandmother had assembled for her that said she'd most likely take at least _one_ keyboard class before the school year was up. Winry may have taken piano lessons for years of her life, but she wasn't willing to walk into class rusty as a nail left in the rain.

She walked down the hall, glancing through the tiny windows and seeing pianists swaying, saxophonists gliding their fingers across the keys and even an oboist working with a violinist. She couldn't helping laughing at that one, wondering what on earth they were working on.

Winry frowned when she heard the music drifting down the hall. It wasn't like the rest of the music that she caught snippets of, coming from the practice rooms. They sounded dull and lifeless, absorbed by the walls and buffered by the door. This, however, was clear, if a little faint. Curious, she walked closer, spotting a mostly closed door near the end of the hall.

The music was from a piano, a baby grand, she guessed, and the melody was haunting, sounding serene with an underlying tone of deep melancholy. And yet, it was so full of life that it made her want to cry.

She pushed the door open, poking her head around to see. The door opened to a large hall, reminding her of a church chapel. At the end of aisles of benches was a stage of sorts, with a piano and a person playing it. Winry now saw that she had guessed incorrectly, and that the music was actually coming from a concert grand, not a baby. It was huge, a stretch of wood and keys and glossy black polish. The person sitting on the bench in front of the keys swayed with the music, shoulders hunching as they played a complicate stretch. They were blonde, hair pulled back into a braid, and as they pulled a hand up in a small flourish, she realized they were wearing gloves.

_That's a little weird..._she thought, frowning slightly.

Winry thought that she recognized the tune, but couldn't recall it exactly. She took a few steps closer, as if swept along by a suddenly intense stretch of chords. Dreamlike, Winry made it half way up the aisle, watching the person, a boy (she was close enough to see that he was wearing pants, not a skirt) play, but then his face was pulling into a frown. It seemed that he was losing track of the piece, missing notes or forgetting what to do next, even though to Winry, it seemed like he was playing as fantastically as ever. He suddenly banged on the board, jagged, loud chords that ripped their way through the previous song. He let out an angry groan and she gasped, falling back a step.

He whipped around, hearing her, and jumped to his feet.

"What're you doing here?" he demanded, and she stared, scrambling for words.

"I-I was just-I was looking for a practice room and-"

"Obviously, this one's taken."

"I know that!" she started angrily, unable to believe that he was snapping at her for no reason. No, he was _yelling,_ his own anger combined with the distance between them making his voice painfully loud. She glanced over her shoulder, hoping no one was right there, staring at the new girl being screamed at by this pianist.

"The only reason I came in here was because I liked your playing!" continued Winry, not wanting him to steamroll over her. "I thought maybe 'Hey, I'll just tell this person the song sounds great and then leave'! Is that a _crime_ here at St. Bradley's, to give someone a compliment?"

The boy glared at her, a look so intense that it felt like it was burning her. She tried not to back down from this strange boy who wore long hair and gloves and played the piano so beautifully, yet had the temper of a demon. All of the irritation she'd felt over the past week or so was starting to bubble over, and Winry knew that if she didn't control herself now, she'd have a full on shouting match on her hands.

"Well, say and get out," he spat, and she fell back another step, appalled at the _gall_ this boy was showing her. Yell at her and then demand a compliment, would he? Treat her like she was dumb and then dismiss her like a child, would he? The urge to grab a book sitting on the bench beside her and just hurl it at his head was suddenly overwhelming, but Winry clenched her teeth and fisted her hands at her side.

_Don't start trouble, don't start trouble, Winry, don't you dare go assaulting a student before your day starts!_

"Sorry, I don't think I will," she said, voice sounding mockingly sweet to her own ears. "The ending there was a little too messy for me to say anything nice." Winry gave him a big smile and turned on her heal, snarling the moment her back was to him. The image of his face, open in shock and then flooded with anger was sharp in her mind and she felt a swirl of satisfaction of having gotten the last word in.

She stormed down the hall, taking a tight turn around the corner and almost slamming into someone.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," she said quickly, trying to catch a book that slid out of their arms. She let out an annoyed breath and ran her hand through her hair, starting to get irritated that he had gotten under her skin in the minute or so they'd talked. Winry bent down to retrieve the book and handed it back to the girl she'd almost ran into.

"No, no, it's alright," the girl said, laughing and shaking her head. "If I were that angry, I don't think I'd really look where I was going, either."

Winry blinked, anger replaced in part by embarrassment. Her grandmother had always laughed when she said Winry wore her emotions right on her sleeves, just like her father, but now she could only feel shame.

"I'm Maria Ross," the girl said, giving a genuine smile, unlike the one Winry had tossed at the pianist. She stuck her hand out and Winry shook it, feeling a little awkward.

"Uhm, Winry Rockbell."

"Oh, really? The Colonel told me about you! New student from...oh, what was it, Resembool?"

"Uh, yeah." Winry paused, then opened her mouth. "Wait, Colonel? I don't-"

"Oh, sorry, my bad, you wouldn't know any of the nicknames people have here! The Colonel's Roy Mustang. He's got this group of friends all decided to give each other military ranks or something, and he ended up with 'Colonel'."

Winry laughed in spite of herself, shrugging. "That explains a lot. Is he generally so...hospitable?" she asked, wondering about how he had immediately fallen into the role of the perfect host. It seemed kind of contrived, now that she thought of it, just the barest trace of an act as he tried to make the absolute best impression. Which, Winry had to admit, he had done stunningly well.

"Yup, that's the Colonel alright. I swear, the way he recruits people, you'd think he really _is_ in the military." Maria laughed, shrugging then checking her watch. "Whoa, lunch time already!" She looked at Winry, turning slightly and pointing over her shoulder. "Do you...want to come with?"

"Sure," she said, a little surprised. Winry never expected to be invited to lunch by some girl she'd practically mowed down in the hall. Maria grinned, nodding.

"Alright. I'll make sure to introduce you to everyone, then."

_**AN Oh, Ed. What a terrible first impression you make. XD The song he was playing was Chopin's Nocturne Op.9 No.2, and I suggest you go listen to it! There is going to be quite a bit of music referenced, used or used as a theme in this story, and I think you guys should check them all out when they come up :)**_

_**Please review and tell me your thoughts on the chapter! I'm excited to see what you have to say.  
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	5. Sitting on the Dock of the Bay

_**AN Haha, this chapter...when will I be able to write a chapter without having serious writers block? OTL Either way, enjoy the chapter.**_

Winry followed Maria back to the cafeteria, talking and trying not to stare at their fellow students. Even though she had seen them the day before with Roy and Riza, it still amazed her to no end that people just dragged cellos and quad toms and saxophone cases everywhere with them.

The cafeteria was more crowded than it had been when she'd gone to breakfast, full of starving music students and the music and noise that accompanied them everywhere. In the minute or so it took her to get her tray and get in line, Winry had heard a dead serious conversation on the connection between the relationship of two action movie characters and the later period of Bach's life.

_Oh gosh..._Winry thought, grabbing a sandwich and an apple, _am I going to turn into __**that** by the time I leave here?_

Once they were done getting their food, Winry and Maria sat down at a surprisingly empty table, and began talking about Winry's past.

"So, Resembool," Maria began, opening a cup of peaches.

"Yeah," Winry said, feeling slightly embarrassed. "It's...a whole lot different from here. I've lived there my entire life, helping Granny Pinako around the shop, working on automail, saying hi to everyone on the street, because, of course you've known them since you were five and now...I'm in St. Bradley's." She sighed, opening her carton of milk. The feeling of being overwhelmed was starting again, and she tried to drown it out with a few gulps of milk.

Maria had just started to respond when a slightly rumpled brunette dropped down beside her.

"Ah, man!" he sighed, slumping over his tray. "You will not _believe_ the stuff we had to do in Advanced PE."

"Brosch, could you be any more rude?" Maria asked, turning to him in incredulity. He tilted his head to squint at her pathetically, mumbling "But I'm _dead._ Dead people can be rude."

A beat dragged by, and then he added "Because they're always late."

"_Ah my gosh,_ Denny! Stop with the stupid puns!" Maria groaned, putting her head in her hands. Winry watched with quiet amazement as the two interacted, distantly interested in their dynamic.

"I swear, just because I made _one_ little comment about wordplay over the summer does _not_ mean you can make crappy puns all over the place," continued Maria, while Brosch snickered quietly to himself. "This isn't a contest to see how long you can make this last, you know! Just drop it,_ please."_

"...Why are you dead?" Winry asked tentatively, and he picked his head up to look at her.

"Oh, hi, I'm Denny Brosch. And I just had to run a mile in eight minutes, then got to do strength training for the rest of the period. Now, I can't even lift my _spoon..._" He stared woefully at his cup of yogurt, then whimpered.

"Excuse him, he's just being an idiot," Maria said, rolling her eyes, though she couldn't quite keep a smile from quirking her lips. "He'll get over it in a minute."

Winry was just nodding, trying to bite back a laugh when Havoc swept onto the bench beside her. From what Winry had seen of him during the day, he was the person who was friends with, or at least knew, _everybody._

"Hello ladies, Denny, how are you doing today?"

"No different from twenty minutes ago when you last asked me," Maria said dryly, biting into her apple.

"I'm just worried about you two. Actually, I just popped by to check on Winry."

"Don't you have other skirts to chase?"

"Are you insinuating that I frequently spend my time wooing the babes of this fair land?" Havoc asked, looking shocked she even asked.

"You do spend most of your time checking out and cat-calling most of the female population at St. Bradley's," Denny remarked, making Havoc shoot him a look. "You and the Colonel, I swear, I don't know how women feel safe around you."

"Mustang?" Winry asked, turning to look at the boy. "He's really a-"

"Flirt," Denny said, just as Maria said "Womanizer" and Havoc coughed "_Player"_ into his napkin. She blinked, feeling a little surprised. Was _that_ what he'd been trying to hide yesterday?

"See, Hawkeye keeps him in check," Maria started, and Havoc grinned.

"_Sometimes._ Even then, there are times where she can't attack his conscience..."

Winry was about to ask just what else Roy had been hiding, when a loud "Hey everybody!" came from her right. She looked around, finding a tall boy in glasses striding towards them, and grinning and waving at them.

"Hey Maes," Maria said, scooting over for him to sit down, and Winry realized that he was the 'wingman' Havoc had been talking about at breakfast.

"Did Roy find you? He said he needed to talk to you about some community project or something during breakfast."

"Oh yeah, he got a hold of me. And who's this?" he asked, turning his bright smile on Winry. She smiled back, giving out her name, feeling a little overwhelmed by his aura of intense enthusiasm, and he stuck out his hand, pumping hers a few times before dropping down by Maria.

Now that he was sitting, Winry could see that there was another boy behind him. He was blonde and looked to be around her age, though a little shorter than her. He nodded at her, said hello and sat down in the space Denny had just made between her and him.

"I'm Alphonse Elric," he said, "Nice to meet you."

"Alphonse?"

"Oh, uhm, just call me Al. Alphonse is kind of a mouthful," he said, and she grinned, deciding that she rather liked him.

"So, Al, how have you enjoyed St. Bradley's so far? We can compare it to Winry's and see who's had a better time of it," Havoc said, lounging over on the table. Al shrugged, picking up his sandwich.

"It's alright, I mean, it's just more crowded than it was during the summer."

"He was in this special course while we were on vacation," Maria explained, probably sensing that Winry was totally lost. "He's a first year, but St. Bradley's has this thing to acclimate first years and foreign exchange students."

"Yeah, so I had to come here during August to get used to the schedules and the campus. Unfortunately, that meant I spent a _lot_ of time with the same people," Al laughed, and Denny asked "Weren't you always with that Ling kid?"

"Mm-hm. He actually lived with us during that month, because the dorms weren't open yet. Ed almost flew off the handle at him at first." Al shook his head sadly as Havoc laughed.

"That brother of yours. No idea how to reign in his temper."

"He can when he wants to. He just...never does." Al sighed slightly, and Maes suddenly turned to Winry, beaming with pride.

"Winry, would you like to see the prettiest girl in _all_ of Amestris?" Everyone at the table groaned in protest, but he didn't seem to hear them.

"Uhm...sure?" she said, a little thrown off her guard by the abrupt topic change. She wondered if he was about to whip out a picture of a movie star or a model, but instead, he tugged out his wallet and showed her a small picture. It was of a sweet looking girl, about seventeen, smiling as she sat under a tree.

"Wow, who's that? Does she go here?"

"Oh, her name's Gracia! Sadly, she lives in East City, so I only get to see her on breaks, but I don't care!" Maes was positively gushing at this point, the words spilling out at a rather alarming rate. Winry leaned back a little, nodding as Denny leaned over and whispered "He's kind of obsessed with his girlfriend. Don't get him started on her, he never stops."

Winry laughed and talked for a few minutes, finding out that Maria was also in Chamber Choir, though, where Winry was a soprano, she was an alto.

"I bet you'll love it in there," Maria said brightly. "The conductor, he's amazing! Did you know he actually got a doctorate for singing? At least half the teachers have!"

"Money certainly _does_ buy you the best," Winry noted absently, though it wasn't as distrustful as the first time she had thought it, back in Resembool. She was truly feeling comfortable with the students, which was a blessed relief. Despite the warm welcome at breakfast, she had expected it would take her a few days, but instead they were acting as if they'd known her for years. When she'd commented on it, everyone had just laughed, shaking their heads like she'd missed some important joke.

"See, that's the thing people don't really get about the rich," Havoc said, pulling out a lollipop from his jacket pocket. "They think we're all perfect, but really, we're _way_ too screwed up to judge someone by where they come from."

Winry looked at him, not sure what to think. Was he telling her that they weren't the kind people they seemed, or that the rich were so short of friends that they'd take anyone who seemed generally good, or that there were some terrible secrets that drifted around the higher classes? That she already knew, her grandmother had always said that money didn't make a person perfect, but still...such an ominous statement made her wonder.

"And what's screwing you up?" she asked, and he sighed, shaking his head.

"A penchant for getting laid _waaaaay_ too often. I just can't help it," he said casually, and Winry couldn't help guffawing. Just as he said this, though, a wavy hair brunette walked up. She was just opening her mouth to say something, but then heard what he'd said. She then glared at him and whacked him on the head with her notebook.

"_Jean Havoc!_" she demanded, while Havoc squawked, nearly swallowed his lollipop and spluttered out curses.

"Jeez, Rebecca! I nearly died on my lollipop!"

"Serves you right," she said flatly, turning to Winry. "Ignore him. He makes himself out to be some huge playboy, but it's mostly just a load of crap. I'm Rebecca Catalina, by the way." She offered a bright smile to Winry before turning back to Havoc, the kindness melting into merciless fury.

"_You._ You just _skip_ the student council meeting, where _promised_ you'd be, presenting your stupid idea for the Halloween dance, and you're just sitting here! Making up stories about how you've thrown down and scored big no less! Rose has been _frantic,_ thanks to you!" She shook her head, face contorted in a look of utter disgust. Havoc had shrunk under her wrath, letting out a continual stream of 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!' and tried to soothe her. Rebecca hit him with her notebook again, then grabbed his arm.

"Come on," she growled, dragging him out of the lunchroom. "You're going to be sorry that you skipped it!"

"I already _am,_" he whined, sending a pleading look back at the others at the table, but no one seemed willing to come between Rebecca and her prey.

"Those two," Denny sighed, shaking his head. "They just need to date and have done with it. The sexual tension is suffocating." Winry gave a half laugh, thinking privately that St. Bradley's was definitely a weird place if _that_ was qualified as 'sexual tension'.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Maes said, smacking his fist against his palm, "I've got to go catch Sheska. She said she had some notes from English, and that she'd stay behind the student council meeting for a few minutes to clear up." He stood up, picking up his tray as well. "Winry, it was great meeting you. Guys, don't let anyone get her in trouble. See you!"

Maes left with a wave, and the conversation resumed. A few minutes later, however, Al perked up, eyes bright.

"Ed!" he called, then waved. "Hey, Ed!" The boy waited, face intent, like he was listening to someone, but Winry had no idea how he could have heard his brother over the chatter and music in the cafeteria. She turned to look at the doors in hopes of seeing Al's fiery brother, but all she saw was a flash of golden hair as Ed left the door way, heading back into the main building.

"_Ed!"_ Al yelled, sounding irritated. "You need to eat, Ed!"

He sighed, frowning and standing up. "The idiot, he never eats during meal times. He insists that he can really only practice without people storming in on him when everyone's eating, so he eats in class and during breaks."

"Yeah, and then he stuffs himself during the weekends," Maria added, and Al groaned.

"Tell me about it! He'd have an eating disorder if I weren't around." Al picked up an apple from his tray, the only thing he hadn't eaten, and Winry briefly wondered if he'd selected just so he could give it to his brother. "Sorry I have to run, but if I let him get too far ahead, I won't be able to find him. Bye!"

Alphonse hurried off, dumping his tray and running out the doors after his brother.

"And then there were three," Denny said in a spooky voice, and Maria flicked a carrot at him.

"Ed's infamy seems to be spreading," Winry said, draining her milk carton. "First he's a hot head, now he's on the verge of having an eating disorder."

"Ha, not to mention he fights. Plus he's an absolutely _genius_ at the piano. Only a second year, and he's an advanced student!" Winry raised her eyebrows, rather impressed.

"Wasn't he supposed to get his pocket watch at the end of fourth quarter last year, but they didn't let him have it?"

"Mm-hm," Denny answered, nodding. "I was an office aid last year and heard the whole thing. See," he said, turning to face Winry, "you can actually earn your advanced status at the quarter instead of having to wait until the next year. Ed could have gotten his at semester, ordinarily, but because he was only a first year, they waited to see if he could keep up with the load. But he earned himself probation by fighting."

"_Fighting?_ So you weren't joking about that?" Winry asked, feeling a little shocked as they shook their heads.

_That's it, I'm intrigued, _she thought, smiling slightly as she listened to Denny's explanation. She had to admit, they didn't have characters like Edward Elric in Resembool.

"Yup. Both the Elrics started training with this martial arts lady over in Dublith when they were, like, five. Alphonse decided to keep a lid on his powers and use them for good."

"Edward, however, immediately abused them," Maria said sadly, scraping the last little bit out of her yogurt cup.

"What, did he start beating people up?"

"Oh, no, he's just...such a hot head, that when he got angry enough, he ended up punching somebody. He didn't bully people or anything."

"They _were_ going to let him have it, at first, even though he'd hit a few people and yelled at a couple of teachers. Then the staff caught wind of the fact that he'd been openly fighting off school grounds. They decided that he wasn't a suitable candidate, and that they'd let him get the pocket watch when he came back the next year." Denny shrugged, resting an elbow on the table, and Winry let it all sink in. She could empathize with the lashing out when upset, she had been known to swing a wrench if particularly angry, but getting into actual _fights..._ that was different.

"He's had it tough," Maria sighed, shaking her head. "They both have, Al included. With their mom dying and their dad not being there much, plus Ed's attitude...it's hard to deal with."

"Well, I don't think it was that hard for Ed to deal with it. I mean, he didn't even _talk _to anyone for the first semester! He's mastered the whole stone-walling technique, for sure."

"So, besides being a musical genius, even by St. Bradley's standards, _and_ being a borderline delinquant,_ and_ almost having an eating disorder _and_ having very little parental contact, Edward's a social recluse?"

"Mmmmm...yeah, kind of," Maria admitted, shrugging. "Well, not as much now. The Colonel managed to break his shell, though that was probably because he wanted Von Hohenheim's son in his little circle."

"_Von Hohenheim?_" Winry spluttered, yet again amazed. Von Hohenheim was the head of one of the top electronics companies in the country, and had a hand in several medical facilities as well. Honestly, Hohenheim seemed to be involved with _everything,_ from the production of mp3s to the construction of train stations to automail. His fame seemed to come from not his business prowess, but the fact that he was everywhere.

"Yup. It's a high standard, even for St. Bradley's. That actually got Edward picked on at first, but then people kind of backed off when they found out he was a bit of a fire cracker," Maria began, and Denny snorted, saying "A_ bit_ of a fire cracker..._" _She shot him a look and continued.

"But, like I said, Roy managed to get him to come 'round. After that, he started talking to people, eating lunch in the cafeteria. Once he started actually _talking_ to people, we found out that he's a pretty nice guy."

"Under the sarcasm and stubbornness and a need to pick fights with everyone," Denny added.

"Yeah, under all that. He's...kind of a philanthropist when it comes to good deeds. He got Sheska into the student council, and helped Rose get rid of her boyfriend...oh, and I think he helped Breda with a flat tire once."

Winry sat there for a moment and then gave a small 'Wow.' Maria and Denny laughed, nodding.

"There's not much more you can expect out of him, huh?"

"My question is, is _everyone_ like that? Do you guys have a million facets, or is Ed that much of an oddity?"

"Eh, it depends. Just get to know the people around here, Winry. Some of them are going to be the biggest jerks you're ever going to meet, yeah, but a lot of them are great people. They'll always have you back." She grinned, about to say something, but the bell rang, and Denny sighed, standing up.

"Oh, good. Percussion with the orchestra. Just what my aching limbs need." He picked up his tray, walking over to dump it. "Honestly, I don't know how Ran Fan manages to do it! She's in the exact same PE class as me, and yet she's playing the timpani and the bells and the xylophone like she's been laying in bed all day...it's sickening."

Maria and Winry laughed and waved him good bye, heading off towards one of the choir rooms.

"Well, Winry, ready for Chamber Choir?" Maria asked, and Winry smiled, nodding.

_**AN Mm...backstory. Yaaaaaay. Still, we'll be able to get away from it pretty soon! I don't think I'll be able to handle how...**_**calm_ everything is for too long XD_**

_**As always, please review! Tell me how the story's coming, what you think of the characters, etc. :)**_


	6. Subito Ironico

_**AN I think this chapter was the first that I could easily write, without being plagued by writers block. And yet, it takes me a month to come up with it. OTL OTL OTLLLLL I hope the quality of the chapter makes up for it, though!**_

_**Oh, and last chapter's title was in reference to how Winry feels at being in St. Bradley's as well as the song by Otis Redding.  
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There was a clank as Edward lifted the bar bells, holding them in the air for a second before settling back on their stand. He grunted slightly as he sat up, wiping his hand over his forehead. Standing up, he glanced at the clock, which proudly displayed '_6:45'_. Edward needed to get out of there soon, as the weight room was going to officially open in fifteen minutes and he didn't really want to go through the hassle of getting caught.

He glanced around, making sure that it looked like no one had been there since the day before and grabbed his water bottle and jacket. It was his routine to come in here every day for an hour of weights before heading off to breakfast. A few weeks ago, he'd been going to the public gym, but then he'd started attracting the attention of ripped seven foot giants who wanted to know why a little midget like himself was trying to lift so much. Ed had swiftly wiped the smirks off their faces when he managed to get in almost twice the reps as them when they'd had a bench pressing contest.

He'd stopped going when St. Bradley's had let people back into the dorms, as he could sneak into the weight room everyday. It also meant almost no one would be able to stare at his automail. He tugged on his workout gloves to hide his metal hand and made sure his jacket sleeve didn't ride up before heading to the door and flipping off the light. Ed peeked outside before slipping out the door, locking it with a key had he had 'acquired' from the janitor.

Edward was just exiting the hall when he saw a few early birds heading to the weight room, hoping to be the first ones on the equipment. He let out a soft sigh of relief. A few seconds later and he'd have found himself facing some very difficult questions.

Taking a sip of his water bottle, he opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight.

"Awh, look who it is!" Ed glanced up to see a few boys heading to the cafeteria. He nodded hello, falling into step with them.

"What were you doing in there?" one of them, a kid named Andrew, asked.

"Oh, I just finished my morning run and I was checking to see if the weight room was open yet," he lied quickly, shrugging. "I decided I'd do weights later today."

"Haha, always working, eh?"

"Yup, that's me," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Geez, you keep working out like that and pretty soon you're going to have muscles of steel! You think Bradley gave you that nickname because he knew you had an obsession with working out?" the other boy laughed, earning a chuckle from Andrew.

"Hey Tyler," Ed said seriously, looking into his eyes. Tyler turned, still half grinning when Ed said "_Shut up."_

They just shrugged and Edward scowled, feeling his mood sour. He knew they had no idea about his automail, but the words still stung. Even though it had been six years since he'd gotten it, Edward wasn't easy enough about it to poke a few jokes.

Edward broke away from them as he headed to his dorm, grunting a hello to a boy he passed on the sidewalk. He pulled out his key and opened the door, letting it swing shut behind him.

Since he was an advanced student, Ed was allowed to have special accommodations. Rather than having one of the typical dorms, he had something more akin to a small apartment. There weren't very many people in his building, only two, even though the building could hold over a dozen. This was mostly due to the small number of advanced students and the fact that some of them, like Roy, opted out for normal living quarters. Though, in Roy's situation, it was more of a tactical play than anything. His theory was that if he didn't get extra special treatment and mingled with the student body more, they would be more likely to think kindly about and vote for him when he ran for student body president.

Ed sighed as he opened the door to his room, tugging of his jacket and dropping it on the foot of his bed. He moved past it into his bathroom, turning on the shower.

Edward's dorm was technically lacking in the furniture department, as he only had a bed, nightstand, table set with chairs and a single dresser, but it felt comfortable to him. He'd seen some dorms that had been so jammed full of _stuff_ that it was positively overwhelming, where the inhabitants had been forced to climb over or slog through the general debris on the floor, and it just drove him _nuts._ He much preferred the 'less is more' motto when it came to dorms.

His bed was pushed up against the wall so that it was perpendicular to the door. The table had taken the center of what Ling and Al liked to call his 'dining room', and he usually ate with his back facing the tiny kitchen. It was only a few feet of cabinets on either side, set with a small stove and fridge, as well as a cheap microwave on the counter.

Pawing through the fridge, Ed made sure he had enough dehydrated milk made up to get him through breakfast. He wasn't really up for the commotion of the cafeteria, and didn't want to have to be on all alert to make sure his automail was hidden from everyone just yet.

Edward wasn't _ashamed_ of his fake arm and leg, he personally thought they looked pretty awesome, but he hated all of the questions that went with people seeing them. He'd made the mistake of not hiding them in middle school and he'd been the constant topic of conversation. It was tough enough being the eldest son to a billionaire, but also having lost two of his limbs and his mother when he was just nine, and the circumstances surrounding it...

Ed grit his teeth just thinking about it. Feeling irritated with himself, he slammed the fridge shut, not wanting to muck up his day before school began.

Steam was billowing out of his shower when he walked back into the bathroom, and he quickly stripped down. While he was washing off, Ed ran through his schedule for the day.

_Chemistry, English, Culinary, __lunch, Pre-Calc, one on one time with a piano professor, free time..._

He frowned, not liking the gap in his schedule. Normally, he'd just fill it with extra practice time, but lately Al had been dogging him about spending _too_ much time with the piano. Edward was of the opinion that Al had no idea what he was talking about and needed to butt out, but if there was one thing the the Elric brothers had in common, it was their stubbornness.

With this in mind, Ed tried to figure out what he wanted to do during that hour of free space. Edward could always head into the city, catch a movie and get himself an early dinner or something, but he didn't like walking away from the school when there was still work to be done. He still had yet to smooth out that nocturne by Chopin, which he'd been working on for almost a month, and there was always homework.

Plus he knew from experience that skipping out to go have fun was pretty counter-productive, as Ed felt like there was a giant timer over his head, tick tick ticking away. It really knew how to kill a moment.

Growling in irritation, he scrubbed the conditioner out of his hair, letting his bangs fall over his face. Edward washed off and turned off the water, sticking an arm out of the shower to fumble for his towel.

_Thank heavens for rust-resistant metal,_ he thought, probably for the millionth time as he dried off his arm. Ed remembered the long hours spent pouring over replacement limbs, from fancy polymer prosthesis to high-grade automail. He had liked the idea of automail from the start, though the up-keep was another matter. It hadn't been until his father had called in a favor and gotten Pinako Rockbell down to Central to examine him and even whip up a specialized arm and leg for him that he'd decided on the mechanical replacement.

_Pinako...Roy said her granddaughter had come to St. Bradley's...wonder if she's anything like the old lady._

Edward had to admit that he was moderately interested in the girl, though that might change when he actually met her. He had heard a lot about her childhood from Pinako's rattling on about her as she was fixing up his automail, though Ed had heard less and less of her as Pinako's deteriorated. Now he was left wondering if this girl was anything like the kid in Pinako's stories.

Ed pulled on his uniform and walked into the kitchen. He pulled out the things necessary for cereal and sat down at the table, pouring the dehydrated milk over his corn cereal. Edward had spent all of his childhood dodging the bullet of drinking milk, but after his mother's death he had grudgingly decided to drink it, in some sort of honor to her.

Once he'd gotten into St. Bradley's, however, he'd practically sworn it off for the rest of his life and switched to powdered milk. Since it didn't come from a cow and didn't really taste like real milk, yet still had the vitamins necessary for him to be tall, he'd decided it was a pretty nice fit.

He finished up breakfast and fixed his hair, pulling it back into a tight braid. Ed continued getting ready, pulling on socks, picking out a coat and gathering his textbooks. It was just easier to carry the books around with him, rather than running back here every break to get what he needed.

He glanced around his dorm to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything and then dropped his bowl into the sink. Ed headed out, pulling on his white gloves.

"Morning, Fullmetal," said the only other boy living in the building. He was a tall fourth year with a long black ponytail and an ominous smile, and Ed nodded at him as he came down the stair case.

"Morning, Kimblee," Ed yawned, noticing that Kimblee was carrying his trumpet as well as his backpack.

"Yet another early morning?" he asked and Ed shrugged.

"No earlier than normal."

Ed may have woken up at 4:30 every morning so he could get his hour long work out before school, but if he'd had his way, he'd been sleeping in until fifteen minutes before class started. It was only the thought of the look on Izumi Curtis's face when she found out that he'd been slacking on his exercise because of some stupid self-conscious reason like avoiding questions that got him up every morning.

Kimblee laughed lightly as if he knew exactly what had gone through Ed's mind at that moment and opened the door for them. They kept up the small talk until they split paths, Kimblee to one of the concert halls for an orchestra session, and him off to the main building for Chemistry.

Edward's morning classes passed quickly, and the only truly interesting thing that happened was when the Chemistry teacher put a CD in the microwave.

"Now, this really has nothing to do with what we're doing in class, but I think it's cool," he said casually as the class stared at the plasma flares in awe. "And because Clemin's coffee's going to taste like plastic for about a month, so long as he uses this microwave."

Clemin was the Biology teacher next door, and was, unfourtunately, one of those people no one really seemed to like, especially the Chemistry teacher. The tales of their continual battle of small pranks and one-ups-manships was practically legendary in St. Bradley's, and was just another aspect that livened up Ed's life.

Ed was just exiting the Culinary room for lunch when he heard Ling calling after him. He turned around as Ling fell in beside him, grinning as usual.

"Make any good food for me today?" he asked brightly, and Ed rolled his eyes.

"Just because I'm in Culinary doesn't mean I make food everyday. And who says I'd ever give it to you?"

"But...isn't that what friends do?" Ling said, sounding hurt as he placed a hand over his heart. Ed punched him on the shoulder, grumbling under his breath.

His relationship with Ling was an interesting one at best. They could just as easily be defending each other tooth and nail, as adding fuel to the other person's metaphorical house fire.

For the first few weeks, Ling had aggravated him, no end. In Edward's mind, he was a freeloading black hole that sucked up all the food and kindness in the house and then tried to act cute and get you to go take him out to the most expensive place in town. And since Al wasn't about to see through this big façade, Ed had taken it upon himself to show Ling what happened to shameless mooches in Armestris.

So he'd gone along, tossing Ling out of the kitchen, snatching back books that had mysteriously vanished from the bookshelves in his room and openly opposing him in just about everything. No one really seemed to care about the nearly blatant abuse Ling was receiving at Ed's hands, other than Alphonse mentioning something to Ed about easing up, and Ran Fan, a girl who had exchanged schools along with Ling, and who was, in Ed's mind, Ling's lackey, had given him a few angry and threatening words that he'd mostly ignored. Finally, Ling himself had stepped up to confront Ed.

The stupid grin had vanished and for the first time since Ling had moved in with them, he looked truly pissed. They were in one of the empty rooms in the Hohenheim Manor, which Ed and Al used for training whenever they were home. Ed had been practicing his form when Ling walked in, and Ed being Ed, he began antagonizing him. Ling, instead of just brushing it off had scowled.

Ling had made it very clear that he was sick of Ed's constant harassment and that he was being sickeningly rude. Ed had scoffed at him and tried walking past him, but something had smacked him in the chest. He staggered back staring at the sword in Ling's hand.

"So," Ling said, a slight smirk on his face, "why don't we sort this out? If I win, you stop hounding on me all the time. If _you_ win, then I'll give up food, with exception for meals."

"And you expect me to fight against a _sword?_" Ed asked skeptically, not sure what Ling's prowess was, or even how he'd managed to get the sword through customs when he'd come to the country. "I'll be chopped to bits!"

"Oh, come on. You've got automail, you can use it like a shield like you do in normal fights. Don't give me that look, of course I know about it! It's a little tough to hide two metal limbs from someone living in the same house as you," Ling had said, rolling his eyes. Edward scowled and nodded, gritting his teeth.

"Alright, whatever. I'll fight with you, but only because I'm getting bored with training." Obviously, this wasn't true. Ed had a bit of a winner's complex and really would like to put Ling in his place, plus he'd been wanting to truly let Ling have it since the day he'd walked in the door. As he spoke, Ed was already sizing Ling up, trying to figure out his first move.

Ed grinned, settling into a fighting stance. Ling just stood there, casually looking at Ed like he had all the time in the world. Then he'd spun, and Edward only saw the bright flash of metal to tell him that Ling had unsheathed his sword. Ed sprang back, flipping and then dropping into a sweeping kick that Ling jumped over. Ling stabbed and feinted, then slammed his hilt on Ed's automail shoulder. He yelled out, surprised that Ling would exert so much force on a simple spar, then brightened, realizing this was an invitation to do the exact _same._

Ed slung out a barrage of kicks and punches, which Ling mostly dodged, but a few blows caught him. Ling retaliated by flipping Edward over his shoulder in a move completely foreign to Ed.

"You sure don't hold back on those punches," Ling noted, wiping a streak of blood from the corner of his mouth. "I'm just lucky you hit me with your left hand and not your right. I might be spitting teeth out, otherwise."

"Yeah, yeah, just shut up!" Ed snapped, lunging at Ling and putting him into a lock.

"Looks like you're not gonna be eating any of your favorite snacks anytime soon," Ed taunted, figuring that he'd won and let go of Ling. Then Ling deciding that it was very much not over, spun, knocked Ed's arms away and punched him in the face. Edward reeled, stunned, then fell backwards. He was just blinking the spots away when he felt the tip of a sword on his neck.

He swore mentally as he glared at Ling, who was standing over him, mirroring the smile Ed had worn only seconds ago. Though, it seemed much smarmier on Ling's face.

"I win," Ling said brightly. "No more hounding me for you."

Even now, remembering that little episode on his way to lunch, weeks later, the memory still stung. Ed scowled, still wondering how such a nice and kind of silly guy like Ling could have such a crooked sense of fair play.

_Though, I'm not exactly the perfect example, either..._ Edward thought, then sighed slightly. After their fight, Edward had fulfilled his part of the bargain and stopped dogging on Ling. That didn't stop him from being his usual grumpy and contrary self, and he always doled out blows when he truly saw fit, but Ling was perfectly fine with that, so long as he could still send some jabs back. Ling also turned out to be great back up in a fight. Ed had only ever gotten his help once, but he had to admit, the kid was a pretty impressive fighter.

"Ah, Mister Elric, Mister Yao, hold on a moment."

Both boys turned at the sounds of their names, and Storch walked up to them. The assistant to the headmaster was as serious as always, nodding at them slightly.

"The headmaster would like to request one of you to provide piano lessons for a new student."

Edward nodded, understanding. He and Ling were both piano students, and while Ling wasn't _officially_ an advanced student, he certainly had all of the skill and education for it. It was only because he was an exchange student that kept him from receiving his very own pocket watch, though he really didn't seem to care. Ling wasn't much one to fuss over special treatment.

"Why us?" Ling asked politely, tilting his head.

"It is a special requirement of advanced students, to teach or help tutor another student musically. It's to help prepare you, should you choose to go into a teaching position once you leave school."

"Alright," Edward said, shrugging. "What instrument do they play?"

"She's a voice student. She also has received some amount of classical education on the piano, so you won't have to be starting from scratch. You won't have to prepare her for anything like Syllabus or Guild, but you _will_ have to help her with a song for the Winter Concert."

Syllabus and Guild were piano evaluations, and each could allow a person to graduate to the next of ten levels in classical training. Each had bonuses of its own, such as national recognition or even scholarships, and they were practically a must should a person chose to get into a prestigious music school. Ed had to admit, it was a relief to know that he wouldn't have to help his potential student learn a dozen difficult pieces or scales for either evaluation.

"Who is it?" Ling asked, sounding a lot more interested than he had a few seconds ago. Edward suppressed a frown; Ling was infamous for flirting shamelessly with just about any girl he came across. In that aspect, he was a younger, longer haired, Xingese version of Roy Mustang. Though, unlike Roy, Ling's flirting never went far enough to even get him a date, where as Roy's went much, much farther.

"Winry Rockbell," Storch told him, and Edward blinked.

"I'll do it," he said, trying to act casual. Ling glanced at him, smile turning a little more mischievous. Ed tried to ignore him as Storch nodded, handing him a manilla folder he had in his hand.

"The information on her piano history is in there, as well as when and where the lessons will be held. The rest you'll have to come up with."

"Okay, that's fine. Thanks."

Ling and Ed began walking again, and it wasn't long before Ling was elbowing Edward in the side.

"Hohoho, what do we have _here?_ You were _awfully __quick_ to agree to teaching this girl."

"Awh, shut up! I have nothing to do, now that Al's put a limit on my practice time," he grumbled, opening the folder and glancing at the place and time. Conveniently, the practice time began just as his piano lesson was ending. He'd be able to duck out early, as well as fill that empty patch of space he'd been pondering over earlier.

"Mm-hm, I bet that's the reason," Ling said in a sing-song voice, still grinning irritatingly.

"Look, I just offered to do it so you wouldn't waste her time! Heck, you'll probably spend so much time flirting with her, she won't learn crap!"

This wasn't strictly true, and they both knew it. That was a factor, though a small one. Mostly, Edward wanted to get a look at Pinako's granddaughter. His curiosity about her had grown since Roy had told him, plus it was always a good idea to get teaching experience in while he could.

"That's not true!" Ling pouted, folding his arms. Ed, feeling break, continued antagonizing him with glee.

"Totally is! A prince like you, ha! You think that just because you're Xingese royalty, time will stop for you to flirt with whomever you please."

"Hey, hey, keep a lid on that, alright?" Ling demanded, glancing around in case anyone was around to hear. "I don't want everyone treating me like a freakin' princeling or something. I only told you that to make up for me knowing about your automail."

"Hey, you keep quiet about that!" Ed gasped, taking his turn for making sure no one was around. Ling smirked at him, saying "What, you don't want people to know about your _automail?_ Gee, you should have told me!"

Ed smacked Ling, who in turn kicked him lightly in the back of the knee. As Edward was falling down, Ling took the opportunity to run to rest of the way to the cafeteria. When Ed caught up with him, he was sitting next Ran Fan and Rose, lunch tray piled high.

He moodily went and got lunch, then dropped down beside Rose, who had been joined by Havoc and Breda.

"...and so I was thinking that for the dance, we'd have students preform some of the music," Havoc was saying, while Breda munched on his sandwich.

"That's an idea," Rose said, sounding considerate. "We haven't done that before. I mean, we've had _teachers_ play, but that was usually for the Christmas dance, you know, something serious."

"I know that's what I was telling Breda!" Havoc said, putting a hand on Breda's shoulder. "I mean, we're a high-class music school right? And yet we don't have students showcasing themselves in a more relaxed environment than a concert!"

"I can only remember something like this happening once, and that was back when I was a first year!" Rose shook her head. "Some girl was singing an opera or something for a fundraiser."

"And that was like, three years ago, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, what would we have the students play?" Breda asked, and Rose frowned.

"I don't know...we're going to have a big mix of music, so it really can be anything people can dance to."

"Why don't you have them perform swing and big band and stuff like that?" Ling asked, and everyone looked at him. "Have the DJ play the pop and stuff, while we play something just _fun."_

"See! Listen to the man from Xing!" Havoc said, and Rose grinned.

"Alright, it sounds like an idea. But we'll need then to practice ballad type songs, too."

"Yeah, sure, sure, have them play a few slow songs."

Rose stood up, taking her empty tray with her.

"I'm actually impressed, Havoc. I'll have to tell Rebecca, because she's in charge of entertainment for the dance, but other than that, it should be good. Who knows, maybe she'll like the idea enough to actually go on a date with you."

"_Thomas!_" Havoc practically shouted, "Quit it with the date jokes about Rebecca! Just because I-"

"Oh, wow, speak of the devil!" Rose said, pausing, and Havoc whipped around. "Just kidding," she added, smirking, and Havoc groaned.

"That's it," he grumbled as she walked away. "I need a break. Hey Breda, wanna go take a walk?"

"_Noooooo,"_ Breda said decisively. "The last time I 'took a walk' with you, I had that awful smoky wreak all over me for _two periods._ I can't tell you the looks the teachers gave me."

"Then stand down wind," Havoc muttered. Ed smirked slightly, shaking his head.

Jean Havoc was a hopelessly addicted smoker. He had been since the eighth grade, and despite the many efforts of his friends, had not quit. Edward wasn't quite sure what had prompted him to take up smoking in the first place, it might have been because he had nothing else to do, or maybe because he thought it looked cool (which Ed had to admit, it really did. He probably would have taken up the habit as well, had the smell not been awful.), but the fact was, Havoc snuck out behind the gym every few breaks to take a relaxing smoke. The interesting thing was that Jean had managed to keep it a secret from the teachers, with the probable exception of Professor Grumman. That man knew everything about St. Bradley's.

Kain Fuery walked over, causing Breda and Havoc to start whooping.

"Hey, _Katey!_"

"There he is, the big guy! I wish I was buff like Kate."

'Kate' and just about all variations thereof was the official nickname for Kain, according to Havoc and Breda. He didn't seem to mind, though, in Edward's opinion, that might have been because in comparison to Breda's nickname (Braidykins), it was pretty good.

Kain sat down, and the chatter swirled from topic to topic. Edward kept an eye out for his brother, wanting Al to see that Ed _did_ willfully eat lunch. For some stupid reason, Al had it in his head that Ed would drop dead from bulimia or something if he wasn't there to force Edward to eat three solid, consistent meals a day.

The bell rang, send all of the students off to their respective classrooms, taking the noise and music with them.

Ed went through his afternoon lessons as quickly as the morning ones, unable to keep his mind off of his lesson with Winry. He kept trying to imagine what she looked like and what her personality was like and what kind of a pianist she'd be, but couldn't even begin to guess. Finally, his own piano lesson finished and he hurried out, thumbing through the books his piano teacher had let him borrow for his lessons with Winry.

_Scale books, level six Baroque and Romantic books, a sight-reading book...no, she probably won't need that, she's a singer too, and there's almost no way she doesn't know how to read music after having gotten into St. Bradley's...besides, there's an actual class for theory and stuff, I won't need to cover it..._

Head full of teaching techniques, Ed hurried to the practice room where the lesson would take place. A small part of him was nervous, but a much larger part was eager and pretty confident. How hard could teaching_ really_ be?

Edward entered the music room and searched the halls for room 251. It had been reserved for the hour, though there had been a note in the manilla folder saying that he'd have to make sure to do it from then on. Finally, he found the hall and walked down it glancing at the room numbers.

_245...246...247..._

He glanced down the hall, and felt his stomach drop through the floor. There was someone standing in the middle of the hall, and looked like they were waiting for someone.

_Oh, please, don't do this,_ he thought desperately as he neared the pretty blonde girl that had walked in on him playing the day before. Seeing her again, he instantly felt guilty, because he hadn't _really_ been angry that she'd been listening, just embarrassed and surprised. And of course, being himself, he had responded by yelling at her.

The memory of her sharp final words jumped into his head, and he tried not to scowl at her. She herself wasn't doing so well at hiding her emotions, as she was staring at him, mouth having dropped open slightly. Her brows were furrowing into something he thought was anger or indignation, but he looked away from her, glancing at the room number.

_251, proud as day, that smug little-_

"Winry Rockbell?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Uh, yeah."

"Edward Elric. I'm...I'm supposed to be your piano teacher."

The girl's eyes widened as she leaned forward slightly, as if unable to believe what she'd heard. Edward, unable to handle the awkwardness hanging in the air around them, unlocked the door with a key he'd also found in the folder.

"Well," he said, sighing slightly, "let's get started."

_This,_ he thought dismally, _is **not** going to be fun._

_**AN It was fun writing for Ed. I especially enjoyed writing out his relationship with people/things, plus his knowledge of everyone allows backstory that Winry wouldn't know.  
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_**When I reached the part about Syllabus and Guild, I started panicking, because I've grown up with those musical dealios but I wasn't really sure how to explain it. So, if you have any questions or comments about the musical/technical aspect of the music, feel free to talk to me!**_

_**And finally, a running playlist for the story! Since it's so obviously music oriented, I figured you should at least have my personal playlist (and don't be afraid to send me songs that you think fit! They might make it on here.) It will grow, so be sure to keep an eye on it ;)**_

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<br>Toccata & Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
><em>


	7. Hold on to the Vine

_**AN Oh, whoa, a timely update! It's amazing, it hasn't even been a month yet XD Haha, no, after the last chapter, I've just had this NEED to write for this story, which was dampered by the duty to update other stories, and you know, actually have kind of a life. **_

_**I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. :)**  
><em>

_Harry,_

_Here's your stupid letter. You know how much easier it would be to just email you? Anyways, I've been here about a week now, so I figured it was probably time to write. St. Bradley's is...crazy, that's the only word for it. It's a positive mad house, and at meal times! Gosh, I have no idea how I make it through each one. But I can't _really_ blame everyone. The food's just so good!_

_I've made a lot of friends already, surprisingly. This boy, Roy Mustang, gave me a tour around campus when I first got here. He's Mr. Popular around here, and I guess he sent the word out to everyone to make friends with me or something._

_ In my dorm, there's a fourth year name Rose Thomas, and she's been like a mother hen. Another fourth year I met is Maria Ross. She's in Chamber Choir with me, though she'd an alto. I think she might just be the only practical person here, haha._

_It's weird talking to everyone, because they're all so happy, and yet they've all suffered so much! I don't think I've met a person who hasn't lost at least one parent or other family member yet, and I just_ know _there are even worse things running around here. This one boy, Jean Havoc, he told me flat out that everyone there has some real problems, but he turned it into a joke, so I have to wonder if it's as serious as I think._

_ I'm adjusting alright to my classes, I guess. The schedule's a nightmare, and I have to run from one end of campus to the other to be on time for half my classes. The normal core classes are a little tougher than back in Resembool, but it's the music classes I'm having difficulties with. They're talking about theory and composers and their lives and I'm going to be totally lost if I don't read up on all of that stuff quick! _

_The only problem I've had here has been with the piano. First, I went to try and find a practice room to prepare for my lessons (which I have to take, even though I'm a voice student), and then I hear someone playing. I go try to find them, because the song's amazing, and when I just peep into the practice room, he jumps up and yells at me! And after that, when I tell him that I just wanted to compliment him, the jerk has the guts to say that I can just spit it out and leave! Ugh, it makes me mad even now! Then, the day after that, I go for my lesson. I'm at the practice room, waiting for my teacher to come, and guess what? The guy from earlier walks up, says he's my teacher and then criticizes every single thing I do for the next hour! I expected things to be tough at St. Bradley's, but I never counted on having the pissy demon teacher from Hell teaching me how to play the piano! GRAAAAAAAAH._

_ He's supposedly this piano wonder my age, and_ _he's _Von Hoheheim's son_, which is impressive, even for St. Bradley's standards_,_ but gosh, that doesn't give him license to hound me all through the lesson! He just sat there, arms folded, scowling and snapping out corrections. Once the lesson was over, he barked at me to practice every day and that the next one would be on Saturday. I am dreading this so much it's not even funny. But I guess I'm supposed to expect this kind of behavior from a delinquent. Okay, no, that was rude, but Edward (that's his name) is a hot head and he's gotten in trouble a lot for fighting. It was so bad last year that he even had his advanced student status suspended until this year! When I look at his brother, I can hardly believe they're related. Alphonse is in the year below us, and he's just about the kindest and mildest person I've met!_

_Well, ignoring the Elric brothers (Isn't that weird?. They don't go by their father's name. Maybe it's their mother's.), I have some more news! I found the auto shop Grandma directed me to, Garfeil's Mechanics. They're still hiring (thank goodness!), and once I'm done here, I'll head over. I hope the manager is willing to hire me, even though I don't have a resume. What could I put on there, anyways? 'Worked in grandmother's mechanic shop since she was five'? No thank you._

_How's the Grape Vine doing? Have any more drunks stumble in and get sorted by your mighty broom of justice? Tell me if anything happens, alright?  
><em>

_Anyways, tell everyone I love them, that they need to keep their automail greased, and that I miss them. Oh, and stop off at my family's graves, will you? Including Den's. I know it's been a couple years since he died, but he was a good dog._

_Love, _

_Winry_

_PS You better write back to me!_

Winry leaned back in her chair after writing the post script, stretching her arms behind her head. She glanced at her watch and saw it was almost five, and got up, looking for her jacket. Garfeil's autoshop was thankfully only a block or two from the school, so she could walk there, but it closed at six. When she'd called after school the day before, the person who answered said it was best if she came in more than fifteen minutes before they closed.

Grabbing her coat, bag and keys, Winry left her dorm. It was Thursday evening, and a holiday allowed them a three-day weekend. Most people at St. Bradley's were enjoying the time off in town, watching movies and hitting up restaurants. She, having virtually no money to blow and not wanting to instantly bum off of her new friends, decided to spend the night in, with exception to heading off to find a job.

As she left the grounds, Winry felt a thrill of panic in her stomach. What was she supposed to say? She had no idea what to expect from the owner of the shop, nor what was reasonable when it came to getting a job. A small part of her groaned at only having only her experience with her grandmother's autoshop, as it in no way prepared her for what came next.

Winry walked the two blocks to the autoshop, glaring up at the sky every few minutes to make sure it wouldn't start raining on her.

She smiled when she saw the bright letters of the sign, '_Garfeil's'_, and heard the reassuring sound of power tools being used. Picking up the pace, she hurried over to the door, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. With a compulsive pat of her hair, Winry walked in, taking a deep breath.

The first thing she saw was a large man wearing suspenders, talking to a woman who looked extremely frazzled.

"...but I have a road trip on Saturday! My daughter has a tennis tournament, and she can't be late!"

"I'm so sorry, madam, but the car just won't be ready in time," the man said, walking behind the counter and picking up a binder. "I'm understaffed, and I just can't get my employees on any more overtime. You'll have to make other arrangements."

The woman let out an irritated groan and flopped down on one of the waiting chairs. Winry bit her cheek, thinking this was a rather convenient way to make her entrance.

"Ah...are you Mr. Garfeil?" she asked nervously, stepping up the counter. The person she'd spoken on the phone to the day before had briefly described him as a big, effeminate man who pursed his lips. He now raised his eyebrows, nodding.

"Yes, I am. Who might you be?"

"Uhm, I'm Winry? I called yesterday about a job interview." She waited as he glanced at the desk, hoping he didn't notice how she made it all seem like a question. She held the straps of her bag tight, trying to keep from bouncing on the spot. From the garage to her left, she heard something clatter to the ground and a barked curse before the person got back to work.

"Winry, Winry, Winry...oh, here we go! Yes, you wanted to see if you could get a job as an automail mechanic."

"Yeah, that's right."

"Hm...that spot's been open for so long...there just haven't been the right people coming in!" he said, giving a small laugh. Winry was too nervous to return it and just stayed silent, letting the sound of a power screwdriver fill the air between them.

"They all thought that working for a guy like me would be a walk in the park, but I have standards! They have to be _serious_ about working as a mechanic, and need to be able to deal with whatever comes their way."

"Of course!" she said, wondering if there really was any other way of working on mechanics. Mr. Garfeil gave her a thoughtful frown, as if considering her.

"An automail mechanic has to be particularly studious, as they're dealing with people. You...said you were a student?" he asked, glancing down at the notes the person from the day before had scribbled down when they'd spoken with her.

"Yes. I go to St. Bradley's School of Music."

"_Really?_ That's not what I expected! Usually St. Bradley's kids seem to be..."

"Pampered and too snobby to find a job, especially as a mechanic?" she asked, nerves making her shockingly blunt. He looked at her in surprise for a moment before bursting into laughter. Winry let out an embarrassed grin and glanced over her shoulder at the woman on the chair, who was throwing dark looks at the two of them as she grumbled into the phone.

"Yes, that's about right. Winry, when do you get out of school each day?" Garfeil asked, genuinely interested now.

"Three, except for on Thursdays. Then I get out just before two."

"That could work then! Let's see, if I get you in at three thirty...but wait, I'm getting ahead of myself! I'm sorry, I just really need someone to fill that empty slot. Honestly, I need two people, but no one wants to work on cars and automail anymore, not in a hole in the wall kind of place like this. The trouble with Mrs. Cole is proof of that," he said regretfully, nodding over at the woman on the chair. "What experience have you had in working with automail?"

"I've worked in my grandmother's shop since I was a kid. I even had a few customers of my own," she added bashfully. Mr. Garfeil nodded, and Winry waited, everything in her tense.

"Well, why not?" he said, and smiled at her, thumping a hand on her shoulder. "You're hired! I like you, Miss...heavens, I forgot to ask you full name! I'm Henry Garfeil, by the way." He stuck out his hand and Winry took it, dumb from delight as she struggled to remember what her name was.

"U-uhm, Winry, uh, Winry Rockbell, sir!" she said, feeling excitement gush out from inside her.

"Well, it's great to have you on board, Miss-did you say _Rockbell?"_ Garfeil asked, eyes widening in shock.

"Yes...? I'm related to Pinako Rockbell," she said, happiness instantly souring into worry. Winry jumped when he started laughing again, hand clapping his forehead.

"That settles it! Anyone who worked with Pinako Rockbell is more than good enough for me. She _was_ you grandmother, right?" Winry nodded and he beamed, bending over something on the desk. He started scribbling away, talking all the while.

"You're probably _over_ qualified for this kind of work! Working under your grandmother since you were little...you were out in the country, yes? That's where I heard her autoshop was, but I never had a chance to go visit it before she passed away..." He paused, a sad little frown on his face as he looked back up at Winry, shaking his head and murmuring "It's a definite loss to the whole world, not just the automail one...But, you can carry on the legend! Oh, I can hardly think straight, I'm so pleased!"

Mr. Garfeil quickly told Winry her wages and hours, and in a few minutes she was stumbling back past Mrs. Cole, who was still talking on her phone, feeling perfectly giddy with her new job.

"Oh, wait, Winry!" Garfeil called, and she turned around. "Do you mind if you start tomorrow? You'd be finishing up some of the other's extra work, but only for a day or two. Normally, I wouldn't ask you start so soon, but we're just so over loaded here..."

"Yeah, no problem!" she said, thinking that she'd do whatever he _wanted,_ so long as she got her hands on some automail, _fast._ Mr. Garfeil beamed and turned to Mrs. Cole, saying "I'm so pleased, Mrs. Cole, you'll have your car back by Saturday morning!"

Winry walked out as Mrs. Cole blinked and spluttered in delighted surprise, feeling like she was walking on air.

She had only gone about a block when she saw Al and another boy who looked to be a third year.

"Oh, hey, Winry!" Al called out, waving at her from the other side of the street. He paused, glancing down either side of the street before dashing across, making the other boy sigh and run after him, saying "Al, _stoooooop!_ I can't run, I haven't eaten yet!"

"Hi, Al," Winry said once they'd reached her, smiling broadly at him. The other boy huffed to a stop beside them, brushing his long bangs out of his eyes. He straightened and looked at Winry, or rather, squinted at her.

"You certainly look happy," he noted, and she blinked at him, surprised. "I'm Ling Yao, by the way. Fifteen, second year, foreign exchange student from Xing."

"Hi, Winry Rockbell, uhm, also fifteen and a second year, as well as a transfer student from Resembool," she said, feeling a little bemused by his appearance when compared to his age and grade. He nodded and she said "Well, uh, I guess I am really happy. I just got a job!"

"Yeah, that's great!" Al said, eyes lighting up. Winry shrugged and tried her best to look bashful, while on the inside she was glowing even brighter. Even the thought of Al's older brother couldn't dampen her spirits.

"I wouldn't even know where to _begin,_" Ling said, shaking his head. "Actually, I don't think they'd even let me get a job here."

"Why, because you'd spend more time eating than working, or because you're a foreign exchange student?" Al joked, and Ling elbowed him, shaking his head.

"So, where're you headed?"

"I'm just coming back from Garfeil's mechanics," Winry said, pointing over her shoulder. "I just finished my...interview, I guess? It was kind of weird. But I'm going back to the dorms."

"What, on the first day of the weekend? No way," Ling said, frowning. "It's practically _tradition_ to hang around the city on Fridays here, in this case, Thursday. Even at the end of the year, when everything gets really intense and you've got recitals and crap, I haven't heard a single person say they stayed in the dorms."

"Well, I'm on a budget here," she said, feeling oddly comfortable around these two. It wasn't like the other students, whom she tried to tiptoe around the fact that she didn't have the millionaire money and connections. Al and Ling just nodded, completely understanding at her situation.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Oh, well, I don't have anyone to take care of me," she admitted. "After my grandma died, I was living on my own. Since I don't inherit the Rockbell fourtune until I'm eighteen, I get a set allowance from the bank each month. My grandma set up a special account to deal with my tuition and board."

"That's kind of like me!" Ling said, voice bright. "I only get so much from my father each month, and I'm not supposed to blow it all on food," he said, laughing. "But I think it's a little more than you get."

Winry shrugged, glancing at the road to see if it was clear.

"Yeah, well, it's certainly not enough to let me go out and have a grand ole time each week." She had just taken a few steps to the street when a hand grabbed each of her arms. Winry jerked to a halt, turning around to see that both Ling and Al had caught her at the same time.

"Come on, Rockbell!" Ling said, grinning. "We'll float you the cash. Just this once!"

"No, I can't!" she said, thinking this was _exactly_ what she'd been trying to avoid. "I'm just gonna go back to the dorm and watch a movie and stuff my face with ice cream or something."

"We'll show you one of the best ice cream parlors in Central!" Al said, waving a hand. "Come on, don't waste your first weekend by spending it all by yourself. Besides, Ling mooches so much off of everyone, no one's going to notice _one evening_ of bankrolling you."

Winry stood there for a moment of indecision, but listening to Al's pleas and Ling's silly '_You know you want tooooooooo'_s, her will broke.

"Alright," she sighed, smiling slightly. "Let's go."

She grinned as Al punched the air, saying '_Yes!'_ and Ling nodded, giving an 'Alright!' as she headed down the road to them to the heart of the city.

_**AN I really like this chapter. I had no idea what to write beyond the letter and a hazy idea of her meeting Garfeil, but I think it worked out nicely!**_

_**Tell me what you think about the chapter, alright?**_

_**Oh, and thank you to all the people who suggested songs and ideas. It was fun to hear your thoughts :) Bolded songs are new.  
><strong>_

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<br>Toccata & Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
><strong>Breakdown - Jack Johnson<strong>  
><strong>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven<strong>  
><strong>Sonata K. 545, Mo. 1 - Mozart<strong>  
><strong>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin<strong>  
><strong>Valse op. 69 'L'adieu - Chopin<strong>  
><em>


	8. Just One of Those Things

_**AN This is one of the few chapters that I didn't have to think really hard for a title. I want all the titles to have something to do with music, but it's so hard coming up with something suitable! Bleh. I think this chapter over all was just easy to write, because I KNEW what I wanted with it, which is also why I updated so fast (which now sets a new and almost impossible standard for updates. Crap.)  
><strong>_

**_And thanks to everyone who has reviewed! I love reading your comments about the story, the music I chose, and how they like the dynamics in the relationships. Though, it's a little awkward when everyone says 'I want Edward and Winry!', and I think about how the next chapter is solely about Roy and Riza. OTL Oh well, I still hope you like it :)  
><em>**

Riza tapped her pencil on the textbook in front of her, waiting for Roy to say whatever it was he had to say.

It was Friday, and she and Roy had gone to the library to study. She was researching something for a history essay, while he wasted a lot of time, trying to look like he was actually doing something. He was supposed to be working on his Calculus homework, but something kept distracting him, which worried her. Riza knew Roy well enough to tell when he being lazy, and when something weighed on his mind enough to keep him from concentrating.

_Please, **please** don't let it be a girl..._ she thought, sighing and looking at him. Roy had his hand fisted in his hair, chewing on the end of his pencil and staring into space.

"What's up, Roy?" she asked, and he jerked slightly, tuning back in. The pencil fell from his mouth as he blinked, trying to figure out if she'd said anything important.

"What? O-oh, uhm, nothing much. I just..." He trailed off, eyes wandering back to their spot a few feet beyond her head. Riza frowned at him, then turned in her chair to make sure he wasn't peeping at some girl on the second floor. When she found it to be devoid of everything but some bookshelves and the wizened librarian, she turned back.

"Just...?"

"I...uhm, well, there's going to be this..._thing,_ tomorrow," he began, making a vague gesture with his hands.

"And...?" she asked, feeling dread creep into her stomach.

"It's a...gathering, off campus. I decided I'd go, to talk to one of the girls there."

_Meaning: 'There's a wild house party and I'm raring to go and get laid by any slut who'll have me'_, Riza thought unkindly, keeping her face, for the most, blank. She looked back down at her textbook, writing a note on her paper.

"And...? Are you going to see that Valerie Price girl?" Riza felt Roy stiffen from across the table, and couldn't help glancing up to catch him slouch back in his chair, waving his hand, trying to cover his slight embarrassment.

"No, no, she was just...one of those things, Riza," Roy said, and she suppressed yet another sigh.

_Just one of those things._ Those were famous words coming out of Roy's mouth. Every fling he'd had, every girl he'd snuck off with to kiss in the bushes behind someone's house or in an abandoned classroom, every one night stand he'd ever had, Roy labelled 'just one of those things'. She'd finally asked him what 'those things' were, and he'd shrugged, looked away and squirmed a bit before changing the subject.

In fact, Riza was beginning to wonder if he'd _ever_ get into a relationship with a girl that would be something a little more specific than 'one of those things'.

"Is this a prelude to another one?"

"No, not if I can help it," he said, and Roy truly sounded serious. Riza stopped writing to look him in the eyes. His brows were furrowed slightly, portraying an intensity that only came up when he was thinking about his ambitions.

A breath of hope pushed its way into her chest as Riza thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to do this.

"So, let me get this straight - you're going to this 'gathering', off campus in some unknown location to meet with this girl who hopefully isn't going to be 'one of those things,'" Riza surmised, and he shrugged, making a face.

"It's not as awful as you make it sound. I _just_ want to talk to a girl named Bethany Quintz. Her father knew mine, he's important, he'd be a great reference, blah, blah, blah, same old story, it's just that she likes to party and there's going to be one at her house I think that the best way to get into her good books is to chat her up while she's drunk." Roy gave a huff, having said the last bit in a rush, as if it'd make things better.

Riza raised her eyebrows, surprised his was being so blunt. She glanced around the library, but it was just them, the librarian and a person on the computer on the other side of the building.

"So you've just admitted you're going to a house party to non-sexually seduce a girl for her connections under her father's nose, in a place where there's more likely than not going to be alcohol. Which is illegal."

"...Yes." He looked unrepentant, and Riza stared at him, wondering how such clever, intense ebony eyes could so easily suggest something so _stupid._

"Are you a moron?" Riza asked, trying to keep her voice level. He narrowed his eyes, keeping her gaze. She shook her head, becoming more and more irritated by the second.

"Riza, I've got it all planned out. I'd-"

"Roy, _you're an alcoholic!_" Riza threw down her pen as she said it, and now was gripping the the edge of the table like she might fall apart.

Roy stared at her, eyes turning from shocked to reproachful, but she refused to apologize for the truth.

Since he was in the eighth grade, Roy had occupied himself with drinking, partying and generally breaking the law. He claimed he just wanted to have fun, but Riza privately thought that he had been trying to drown out how miserable he was.

His foster mother, Madame Christmas, never gave Roy any special treatment, so he got the exact same tough love, 'it's your choice, your mess' attitude from her, at least, when she wasn't running both her _and_ her brother's businesses. When Roy was in the sixth grade, his parents had died in a car accident, which meant both he and the large hotel company he was due to inherit was passed along to Madame Christmas until Roy turned eighteen. Roy, after having spent the following three years of his life watch people run about fulfilling every physical craving they had, decided that he might as well do it, too.

That had lead him to date thoughtlessly, passing from girl to girl to girl without so much as a backward glance. Then, when that ceased to be enough, he began to drink, and when the two were mixed...things went seriously down hill.

Until the previous summer, when he'd confided his dearest dream to Riza, saying that he wanted to be the headmaster of St. Bradley's, where he could actually make a difference in people's lives. She had pointed out that no one would want a drunk playboy leading such a distinguished school, and he'd admitted she was right, he would have to change things.

But obviously, that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"Riza," he said, voice straining to stay low, and Riza bit her cheek, suddenly worried she might have gone too far. "I have been stone sober since _April._ I am _not_ going to be picking up a bottle of alcohol on my own volition."

She pursed her lips, not convinced. Riza looked back down at her textbook, trying to remember what she'd been looking for. She attempted scanning the page, but all she could think about were the countless times she had bailed his sorry, drunken hide out of nasty situations, and what would have happened to him if she hadn't been there...what he'd be like now without her influence.

"I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn't accuse me of trying to hide it from you," he grumbled after a moment, and she let out a breath, closing her eyes.

"Thank you, Roy, but I was just trying to verbalize the voice of reason."

She grimaced, knowing that had sounded much, much harsher than she had intended.

"So...what's you plan?" she asked reluctantly, and Roy seemed to understand that this was her form of an apology.

"I figured I'd head in before it really gets started," he said, still sounding sullen. "She never kicks off a party sober, and I thought I'd chat her up. Then, on Monday, when she's had time to work off her enormous hang over, I'd have some excuse to talk to her in class, and bam, insta-friends."

"Will anyone be going with you?"

"Jean said he was already going." Riza couldn't help herself, she stared at him, absolutely incredulous.

"You're trusting _Jean Havoc_ to drag you out of there if it gets too dangerous? You realize that he may just be the second biggest flirt on campus, right? Why don't you take Breda or some one?"

"He's got jazz band the same time as the party," he sighed, resting his cheek on his hand. "I thought about asking Fullmetal, but I think he'd run out of there before I could even say hello to Bethany."

Riza shook her head, giving a soft laugh. Roy _did_ seem to know what he was doing, and Havoc could be relied on if pressed. Besides, Roy was serious about this, and it always took a little risk to get a little gain. But she couldn't stifle her worry. The thought of things going so incredibly wrong for him just seemed too likely.

"Well...if things do take a bad turn, _go home,_" she said, making sure her voice had no room left for an argument. He looked at her, then nodded.

"Alright. Second sign of danger, I'm gone. I'll even call you, if it makes you feel better." She nodded, smiling, hoping he couldn't see her ghost of doubt.

* * *

><p>Riza sat at her dining room table, unable to concentrate. She had been like this for the last hour, as the clock moved closer and closer to the start of the party. She tried to finish her homework, but after a few minutes she gave up, leaving the textbooks and notes scattered all over the table. Then Riza tried playing with her dog, Black Hayate, but it was soon very clear to both of them that neither was a very good distraction at the moment. Finally, Riza microwaved a cup of water, grabbed the tea bags and pulled out her violin.<p>

There were very few things in the world that calmed her down more than playing the violin, drinking mint tea and practicing at the shooting range, but since she could not handle a gun _and_ play the violin at the same time, she'd have to settle for one and drinking tea. Plus, she had to be ready for whenever Roy called.

The microwave beeped and she busied herself with making the perfect cup, pouring in honey and the tiniest bit of lemon, then put a plate over the top to let it steep.

The smell of mint already soothing her, Riza picked up her violin, settling it on her shoulder. She paused, then feeling a little self conscious, flicked off the lights. Riza liked playing the dark, the music just seemed so much more enchanting and mysterious when she didn't have lights distracting her and demanding what the mood was supposed to be like.

She adjusted it a moment, then ran through some scales and a quick round to warm her up. When she was done, Riza took a breath and began the first few notes of 'Toccata in D Minor'. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the myriad of notes amidst all the things swimming in her head. It was difficult enough to play the song with out all the distractions of her life slinking in, but Riza just couldn't chase all the thoughts away. How sharp she'd been with Roy in the library, the strain their relationship had been under lately, having to balance keeping a house in order as well as keep up her studies and hobbies, helping Roy with his campaign, the extra work she'd been giving by her grandfather after having turned sixteen, as she was practically a woman now, her worry for how the night would turn out for Roy, what trouble he might get in if she didn't keep up such a strict watch, Roy, Roy, Roy...

She gave an angry grunt, yanking her bow away from the strings, making a small cloud of rosin jump from the strings. Black Hayate yipped from by the door, and she shot him a look.

"Well, I'd like to see _you_ play this perfectly," she said tartly, then checked her tea. It hadn't steeped as much as she usually liked, but Riza didn't really care as she look a large gulp. It was still too hot, but the taste calmed her down. She glanced at the clock, feeling a small lurch at the numbers '_9:26'._

_Over an hour since the party started, _she thought, searching for the sheet music to the song. Why hadn't Roy called yet? He had said he'd be fast, would have left by the time it really got going. Had his cell battery died? Did he know how ridiculously _worried_ she was just now?

Riza shook her head, setting the music in a pool of light coming from a streetlamp outside her window. She settled back into her stance, forcing Roy out of her head. She began the song again, glancing over the measures before her eyes drifted shut. Muscle memory was starting to take over, and Riza found herself swaying and playing louder and louder, sawing back and forth without a care of neighbors who enjoyed a quiet evening.

Black Hayate barked and then whimpered, and she reluctantly softened, trying to keep her concentration as thirty-second notes and trills and words like '_prestissimo'_ and _'crescendo'_ flashed by. Riza continued practicing, moving on to parts that she didn't know as well, slowing them down and piecing them out. She switched to another one of her songs, working on it before returning to the Bach piece.

She started at the beginning, feeling hardly a fraction of the tension she'd had earlier. She had just reached a series of swift arpeggios when someone pounded on her door. Riza jumped, the bow dragging across the strings to make a hideous chord, heart pounding. Her eyes scanned the darkened room, first instinct to set down her bow and grab a gun, but then she realized how ridiculous that was. There really were only a handful of people who actually came to her house, and only one would hammer on her door like that.

Riza carefully set the violin in the case, then took another gulp of tea, noticing how much cooler it was. There was more hammering on her door, this time accompanied by a loud '_C'mon, open up, Elizabeth!'_, and her heart sank.

_Elizabeth._ That was her nickname among her friends (aside from 'the Lieutenant'), like how Fuery's was 'Kate', or Breda's was humorously 'Braidykins'. None of them hardly ever used it any more, but she didn't really care about the nickname. It was the voice that said it that filled her stomach with dread.

It was Roy's, and he was drunk.

She took a steadying breath, trying to make herself look cool and aloof, like she hadn't spent practically the entire evening worrying over him, and had decided to stay up for him because she had promised to answer his phone call (even though it never came).

Riza opened the door just as Roy started banging on it again, and his fist swung through the air, missing the door. He gave a stifled laugh and a '_Whoops,_ sorry, Lieutenant' as he just missed her shoulder, but she was too busy checking the damage.

Roy Mustang, despite his promises and precautions, was thoroughly and completely smashed. His shirt and hair was rumpled, and from the vague light of the nearby street lamp, she could make out the barest shadow of red, smeared by his mouth. There was a satchel hanging off his shoulder, obviously holding something heavy. He leaned against the corner, grinning foolishly at her from around the bricks, and when he straightened, he swayed, blinking a little.

Riza closed her eyes, shocked at how awful she suddenly felt.

"Well...come in, then," she said, stepping aside for him to stumble in, neither of them making a move to turn on the lights. She could smell the booze on his breath as he passed, and Black Hayate started barking excitedly, jumping around Roy's feet. He stooped down to pet the dog, but when Black Hayate caught that awful mixture of sweat, alcohol and cheap perfume hanging around him, he whined and backed away, ears flat. Riza quietly wished she could do the same.

She had so foolishly thought that these days were over, when she wouldn't have to carry Mustang back to a cab, trying not to choke on the disgusting scent of so many drunken bodies pressing all around them, ignoring Roy's drunken chatter in her ear and wondering why she was the only one who saw him at his worst. Riza also wondered why she was the only one who seemed to be truly bothered by it.

Roy flopped on the chair and dropped his bag on the table, narrowly missing her violin. Riza hurriedly put it away before he could cause it any damage.

"You didn't call," she said, voice tight and mature. She liked that voice. It said that she was disappointed and a little annoyed at his behavior, not hurting and wanting to scream inside. It was a safe voice.

"Wha...? Oh, yeah! I forgot," he slurred, and Riza closed her eyes. "See...my phone, the baddery crapped out on me jus' as I was walking in her house." Roy pawed through the bag he'd brought with him, and its contents thunked against each other quietly. She blinked in surprise at the innocent mishap, and then gasped when he pulled a six pack out of his bag.

"_Roy!_ What are you _thinking?_ That's alcohol!" He stared at it, apparently as shocked as she was, then turned to her and slurred "That's not mine. I dunno whose bag this is, anyways."

She groaned, rubbing her knuckles into her forehead, hardly even surprised anymore.

"Fine, fine, I don't even want to ask how you ended up with it, because you won't remember because you're _drunk._" Riza cursed under her breath, then looked back at him.

"So, why didn't you go home and call me from there?" she asked, when she really wanted to demand why he'd gone and stomped on all of his promises and got completely wasted. Roy shrugged, then hiccuped.

"Well, I was busy doin' as you told me! 'Go home' when things turn bad, right?" She stared at him, then realized what he meant.

"Not 'go home' to _my_ house, Roy! Ugh...how _did_ you get here, anyways?" she asked, having the sudden image of him driving haphazardly down the road, laughing and yelling at other drivers as he took out someone's fence.

"I walked, cuz...cuz I knew you'd be all mad if I drove. What's this?"

"That's mint tea, with honey and lemon." Riza was about to offer him some when he took a large gulp from her cup. She scowled, figuring he was probably too drunk to understand the laws of people's drinks. Instead, she got him a glass of water, figuring that anything would help at this point.

"It's a little flat..." he complained, and she was about to rail him for not appreciating fine tea when she heard the pop of a can opening. Riza turned, fearing the worst and growled in anger and frustration she saw by the light of the streetlamp, him pouring a can of beer into her tea.

"_Roy!_" she hissed, eyes darting around as if expecting to see a police man glaring at them through her windows. "What are you doing? You are breaking the law _in my house!_"

He turned to look at her, eyes innocent as he drained the cup of ruined tea. She growled, chewing a curse word to bits as she stormed over, slammed the cup of water down without spilling _too_ much, then snatched the mug from him. Roy stared at her, then tried reaching for the beer can, but she smacked her hand down on the top.

"_No,_" she snarled, in a voice that usually sent Black Hayate cowering in a corner. Roy slumped with a scowl on his face, and she sighed, scooting the cans out of reach. What had he been _thinking, _bringing beer over to her place? Where had he even gotten that bag, anyways? He had been telling the truth when he'd said it wasn't his, cheap and made out of some kind of plastic. Roy only entertained the highest of tastes.

Until it came to alcohol, then he'd just as gladly settle for cheap booze as fine champagne.

"Drink the water," she said, and he reluctantly sipped it, knowing the drill.

"Why did you even come here?" she asked, leaning on the table beside him. She was just so _tired, _and she didn't want to have to deal with this anymore.

Roy was silent a moment, then rocked back in his chair, sighing.

"I was close by, and figured, why not?"

"Roy, my house is two blocks _beyond_ the school."

"So? I wanted-wanted to see you."

"More than you wanted to get dragged up to some bedroom and lose your pants?" she asked flatly, and he shook his head.

"That's stuff's all..._boring_ to me. I don't get anything outta that. I don't...get a kick."

"And what _do_ you get a kick out of, Mister Mustang?"

"I get a kick outta...you, I guess."

"Oh yes, you get a kick out of driving me absolutely _nuts_ by breaking your promises, shirking work, and ending up drunk on my doorstep. Yes, I can _totally_ understand that."

She glanced at the clock again, its green glow one of the few sources of light in the house. Her stomach lurched again when she saw it was just past eleven. He had been at that party for _hours_. But where was Havoc, wasn't he supposed to be going with him to make sure this didn't happen? She asked Roy and he shrugged, mumbling about having lost him after Havoc went for a smoke break.

"Oh, Riza, I just remembered," he said, standing up abruptly, and she leaned back, one, because his breath still smelled awful, and two, because his nose practically touched her's. He swayed from having stood up too quickly, and steadied himself by grabbing hold of her hand on the table.

"...What?" She felt a flutter of something she guessed was panic. This wasn't right, this wasn't right, he was drunk, she was supposed to be furious at him, this wasn't right, but Riza couldn't help but notice how cute he looked, even though he was drunk off his face and bearing signs of having made out with a girl (if not multiple) hours before.

She looked away from his ebony eyes, reminding herself of her own rules. Distance. They needed distance, because there was a no man zone ten feet wide on both their sides, with The Line in the middle. The Line was never to be crossed, she had told herself, not if she wanted to help him reach his goals. People already said nasty things about the two of them, and if they turned out to be real, the scandal would probably be enough to make all those dreams come tumbling down. Plus...what if he didn't _want_ The Line to be crossed? What if he wanted things to stay as they were, and she completely ruined it by acting like an idiot and tossing all her feelings into the air for everyone in the world to see?

That was _not_ something Riza could handle.

"I have something for you."

She turned back to glare at him.

"It's not alcohol, is it?"

"Nope."

Roy kissed her, and Riza was frozen, completely floored. The kiss tasted like beer and shock and relief and she briefly wondered if this was some terrible, teasing dream and she was actually asleep, drooling at the table.

He kissed her again, and again, and then his hand was on her hip and she found herself grabbing his shirt to keep from falling over. Riza had had a handful of kisses in her life time, and none of them had ever been like this. She just would have not stood for it. If some drunk came up to her and kissed her full on, she probably would have kicked his knees in and then shot him in the arm for good measure.

But this wasn't just some drunk, this was Roy, and he was making it very clear he _did _want The Line crossed.

Roy's hands were in her hair, pulling it out of the ponytail she'd slung it into when she'd gotten home, and her own hands were stretching around to the back of his shirt.

Riza pulled back, biting her lip, realizing that she was being stupid. Roy was drunk, and therefore wouldn't act as he would if sober. The doubt was tiny, and as much as she wanted this to all be real and true and honest, she had to ask. She just _had_ to.

"Why...why are you doing this?" she asked, and he tried not to answer, instead kissing the corner of her mouth, her jaw. "No, _Roy,_ tell me. Why are you doing this?"

Riza was holding his face in her hands, and his own hands were still wrapped around her, pressing into the small of her back, and she wasn't sure what she wanted to hear. Everything she'd decided on and lived by was just...gone, washed away like a sandcastle in the surf.

"Riza," he sighed, ebony eyes dragging themselves away from her mouth, "why are you compli-"

"_Roy._"

"It's just...one of those things," he said, like he was irritated she was cluttering the air with questions that were so obvious to him.

Utter shock wiped her face clean, and Riza could hardly breath. Roy ducked his head in to kiss her again, mumbling something that could either be very important or totally useless, but she couldn't hear, she could hardly even breathe.

Just...one of those things? Had he really just _said _that? She was just 'one of those things', one of those whores he only saw once, or, even worse, strung along and then dumped without so much as a backward glance? Riza had seen Roy do this countless times, date a girl so intensely that he was absolutely delirious with love - until he realized he was dead bored and told her so.

His eyes when he told the girl to drop it were all ice and contempt, like she was the thickest person he'd ever meet, all because she didn't realize that he didn't care a wit for her. Then she would start crying, or, if she was a feisty one, would yell at him, call him awful names and scream about how he'd just dragged her along for the ride. Once, Riza had even seen Roy laugh at this, and ask what on earth she'd expected from a guy who had agreed to have drunken sex with her at a house party before even asking her name.

Had the same thing happened to Riza? Had she been so derailed by his charms that she forgot reality just because he smiled at her?

"No," she said, in answer to her own questions and his explanation, "No, no, this isn't happening. I'm not..._no._"

"What?" Roy asked as she pushed away from him, looking utterly confused. In that moment, Riza _hated_ him, for having so thoughtlessly toyed with her, for having proven every single nasty rumor and snarky comment hissed behind his back true. "What's wrong, Riza? Didn't you hear-"

"You - you just - _It's just you, Roy!"_ she yelled, feeling her voice break. She scrubbed at her eyes and mouth with the back of her hand, disgust coursing through her, for the both of them. Black Hayate barked from the other side of the room, adding to the chaos in her head.

"What am I?" he demanded, starting to get angry.

"You ruin _everything!_" Riza grit her teeth, trying to keep herself from yelling again. She was so _good_ at keeping herself in check, but that had been tossed out the window with all reason, it seemed. "Just...just get out."

Riza opened the door, a twisted and heart broken version of a tv showgirl.

"Get out? But I-"

"_Get out!_" She grabbed his arm and whirled him to the door, giving him a rough shove.

"Riza! Listen to me, I don't know what's going on!"

"_Stop it!_" she yelled, unable to keep it all inside. "Just stop, stop it before we lose everything! There are things you don't do, Roy, lines you don't cross, and..." She trailed off, breathing heavily, fists clenched.

Roy stared at her for a moment, and she wondered if he was going to try yelling back, but he just turned around and started walking away. Riza whirled around, every muscle in her body taut. When she caught sight of the cans of beer on her table, something in her snapped.

Without thinking, Riza grabbed an unopened can and strode to the doorway, catching sight of Roy, halfway down the walk. With one angry grunt, she hurled it at him, nailing him in the right shoulder. As he fell, swearing, Riza slammed the door.

She marched back to the table, shoving the remaining beer away. Riza sat down, absolutely furious for a moment, and then she blinked and burst into tears.

_**AN D: DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD: ROY. RIZA. YOU. I JUST. Man.**_

_**When I started planning this chapter out (forever ago. I'm so happy I can finally put it up!), I knew it was like whoa, but then when I started typing it, I realized just awful it was. I mean...dude. This is just a terrible thing to happen. But I still love it, because it adds more twists and turns in the plot~ **_

_**Plus, it allows me to add in some of the songs I have been DYING to show you guys XD  
><strong>_

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<br>Toccata & Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
>Breakdown - Jack Johnson<em>  
><em>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven<em>  
><em>Sonata K. 545, Mo. 1 - Mozart<em>  
><em>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin<em>  
><em>Valse op. 69 'L'adieu - Chopin<em>  
><em><strong>Why Georgia, Why - John Mayer<strong>_  
><strong>I<strong>_** Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum**  
><strong>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones<strong>  
><strong>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<strong>  
><strong>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum (live in Blenheim Palace version. The other doesn't do it justice)<strong>  
><strong>The Tower - Vienna Teng <strong>  
><em>


	9. Lamento

_**AN I am so, so sorry for the delay! School's been kicking my can all over the place, and I've just not had time for writing (which is why I've been able to power through five seasons of Supernatural in just a couple weeks XD)**_

_**Well, either way, thank you so much everyone for the support and kind words you've given me, they are so wonderful to read! So, with that said, enjoy the chapter.  
><strong>_

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Roy was screwed to the afterlife and beyond. One look at Riza the following Monday, and it was painfully clear that he was in it very, very deep.

Saturday night was a haze of senses, but in Roy's defense, he hadn't chosen it to be that way. He had walked into Bethany's house determined to do his job and get out, and had given his friendliest smile in response to her booze laced hello. He personally thought that he had been doing a marvelous job of it, and by the end of fifteen minutes, he was completely satisfied. Bethany had downed more and more of something he thought might have been gin, and Havoc had stood by, a quiet chaperon on his adventure. Jean may have been a party boy himself, but he knew that he'd have to face Riza's fury should he let Roy slip up, which really wasn't something anyone wanted to see.

A stream of people were coming in by now, half of them intoxicated and the other half ten miles beyond, and the two of them had actually been on their way out when Roy saw a boy from the fourth year named Mike. He had already secured a position as a fifth year, and was actually running for student body president. All things considered, he was Roy's biggest rival for the spot.

He had gone over and said hello, and the two began a conversation absolutely drowning in smarm. It was kind of sickening. Between the falsely saccharine conversation, the heavy smell of alcohol and the mix of perfume, sweat and cheap cologne, Roy was hard put to keep his dinner down.

_Whatever prompted me to come to these places?_ Roy thought, glancing around for Havoc. He was casually flirting with a girl that looked like she was in college. He caught his eye and Jean winked, a reassuring sign.

Another girl brushed past Roy, all boobs, bright lipstick and lush dyed hair, casting him a suggestive smile as she moved farther into the room.

_Oh right, that's why._

"Oh hey, don't you want a drink?" Mike asked, turning and picking up a cup from the table behind him. "I think it's some sort of weird juice and ginger ale."

"Emphasis on ale, with these people," Roy muttered, sipping from it after a delicate pause. Mike laughed like he thought this was the funniest thing in the world, and Roy began to wonder if he was entirely sober.

There _was_ something weird about the drink alright, but it didn't taste like any alcohol he'd had, which was a lot. He shrugged, writing it off as some strange brand of juice that had been used to make the punch.

More and more people were walking through the doors, and the music was getting louder and louder and Roy was beginning to forget his purpose in coming there. By the time he glanced at the clock, he realized he'd been there a good half hour longer than he'd meant to. Cursing under his breath, he searched his pockets for his phone, flipping it open. The first thing that greeted him was the image of a red, flashing batter, right before the screen cut out.

Roy practically started banging his head on the nearest wall, his words from the day before ringing mockingly in his head.

_Second sign of danger, I'm gone, I'll even call you, if it makes you feel better._

Riza's worried, frustrated face was clear in his head as he gave a dark laugh, suddenly amused by his word choice. Second sign of danger, because even _going_ to Bethany's house was the first.

He glanced around, trying to find Jean. They both needed to head out, before anything bad happened. Instead of making excuses to Mike, Roy merely inched away, then started searching the house.

It was kind of astonishing, how many people remembered Roy. He hadn't been on the party scene in months, and with these people, something that was absent from their lives for more than a week was usually forgotten, but apparently, he had managed to make a lasting impression. He mostly avoided their conversation by pretending to ignore them and taking a sip of his drink, or heading towards an imaginary person calling his name. By the time he'd searched half the house, his cup was empty, he was grumpy and was pretty sure that the punch had most assuredly been spiked. The all too familiar feel of feeling tipsy was starting to affect him, but so long as it didn't go much farther, he was sure Riza would forgive him.

For a second, he caught sight of Havoc, who was holding a pack of cigarettes and masking his worry with a big laugh. Roy tried to follow him, but lost him in the crowd. Before he realized it, he was standing directly in front of a set of speakers blaring fast dance music.

A girl sashayed in front of him, mouth a sultry red and of the variety that he preferred kissing. She grinned at him and asked him why he wasn't dancing, or rather, shouted it over the music. He shrugged, trying to step away, but in two quick movements she had taken his cup, placed it on a nearby table, then tugged him back to dance. Roy tried again to pull away, feeling the stupid grin stretch his face, just _knowing _where this was headed, and in about ten seconds, he was dancing with the girl.

Once the song ended, he managed to calm his head and get off the makeshift dance floor. He grabbed up his cup in case he needed an excuse to not stick around anyone, half-heartedly looking for Jean. Another person called out to him, and he took a hasty gulp of his drink, then realized his cup had been empty. This one, however, was half full of something that tasted like cranberry juice and vodka.

Roy swallowed instinctively, then started coughing, in both disgust and shock. The last time he'd had vodka, it hadn't burned so much.

"Hey," a girl said behind him, and Roy turned to see the girl from the dance floor, smirking at him. "You took my cup."

He shrugged, and opened his mouth to apologize and offer to return it, but instead he said something about a fair trade, her cup for his time on the dance floor, as well a few cheeky compliments. Her smile was big and he noticed that her shirt perfectly accented both her shape and her lipstick, and she said something about him being even cuter than she'd heard. He took another drink from her cup, then said "Well, I haven't heard about you, but I really wish I had."

They flirted for a couple minutes longer, until Roy somehow found himself engaged in a shot drinking contest, which he lost. But not after downing about five of the things, each of which burning like he'd swallowed hot tar. The dance floor girl laughed over his loss, arm draped over his shoulders, and he realized how close her mouth was, and then habit kicked in. This, unfourtunately, lead to the two of them pressed up against the wall, her hands messing up his hair and his mouth messing up her lipstick.

It was only when someone knocked over a small end table beside them that Roy jerked away from her, feeling hazy. He had the vague feeling that this wasn't right, and then remembered Riza with the force of a sledge hammer smashing into him. He stumbled away, remembering her words about going home.

He staggered through the crowds, giving up on Havoc and searched for his jacket. He had put it on the coat wrack, which had been pinned under a couple who were practically eating each other's faces. Roy broke them apart, and the guy, realizing what he wanted and eager to get back to his previous business, grabbed Roy's coat and a bag and tossed them at him. He put them on, not really remembering if the bag had been his but not really caring.

After that, Roy really didn't remember much. He had walked to her place, banged on her front door, and then his memory picked back up when he hailed a cab to go to his foster mother's place.

Madame Christmas lived in a small apartment behind on of her hotels, which were of a more..._delicate_ nature than her late brother's. Where as Roy's parent's hotels housed politicians and rich people on vacation, Madame Christmas's guests were more varied, and never stayed more than a few hours, for the 'pleasure of the company she so thoughtfully provided'.

Madame Christmas hadn't looked particularly impressed when he walked in, just tapped the ashes off her cigarette and sighed.

"And here I thought you wanted to walk the straight and narrow," she said, her gravelly voice like a slap. He ignored her, heading past the hallway that lead to the bathroom and his disused bedroom and going into the kitchen to get her special remedy for hangovers. He had experienced more than enough to know that he'd really be wanting that by the time the morning came, even though he was so drunk he could hardly count to five.

"Good night, Royboy," Madame Christmas had called behind him, and he'd just grunted.

The following morning, Roy had dealt with the worst hangover he'd had in months. This, he decided as Fuery tiptoed across their dorm, mixing up the hang over remedy he'd brought from Madame Christmas, was _not_ something he missed from the party life. Between puking his guts out and lamenting over the last six hours, Roy was trying to fight a mind numbing headache. Even the small sound of Havoc opening the window made him wince, and he shot him a hateful glare, though Havoc couldn't have noticed it. He was fighting his own hangover, though it was considerably less than Roy's, as he'd only had a couple of beers. Havoc said that he just needed to smoke and he'd be fine, though this was probably said to spite Roy for ditching him the night before.

Havoc had mastered smoking in the dorm he shared with Roy. They were on the second story, and also had the advantage of being mostly blocked by a large maple. Jean had figured out that if he took his shirt off, hung out the window and leaned to the right, he not only avoided having smokey clothes and dorm, but people also couldn't see him, unless they walked directly under him and looked straight up, which he could avoid by popping back into the room until they'd passed.

If Roy hadn't been so unhappy with Jean's habit, he might have complimented him on his clever smoking spot. Still, every time he tried suggesting Jean stop, he'd just shrug and say "You have your vices, I have mine. Kick yours and I'll kick mine."

Now, in the library on Monday morning, Roy was very convinced that after Riza was through with him, he'd never even have the chance to try. The cold, disgusted and hurt look she'd given him when he'd nervously said hello had made him want to run, as he didn't quite know what she'd do to him. While Roy was fairly sure she wouldn't actually try to shoot him, he couldn't be a hundred percent positive.

Plus, there was always the chance that she'd jump him on his way home and beat him with one of her tennis rackets until he could hardly see straight, which was something he had no right in fending off.

He sat at the library table, feeling like he might start puking again. He'd have to face Riza soon, as they usually spent half and hour in the library together, studying and quietly talking, and Roy didn't really know if he wanted her to come or not. On one hand, if she did come, he'd get the telling off of a lifetime. If she didn't...then that meant her disgust and anger and disappointment was so great she couldn't even stand to look at him.

Roy groaned and slumped over his text book, closing his eyes and wishing with every fiber of his being he'd never come up with the stupid plan in the first place. He'd much rather have no connections at all than lose the relationship he had with Riza, no matter how strained it had become lately.

The chair beside him scooted back, and a bag was thumped on the table. He jumped, picking his head up to stare at Riza, stomach flipping with both anxiety and relief.

"Making much progress with that?" she asked, nodding at the textbook he had been resting his head on and he shrugged, not having expected things to start out this way. The way he'd imagined it, there had been a bit more yelling and some wild pointing and more than a few harsh words.

"Uhm, no," he said vaguely, taking a breath and running a hand through his hair. Did she want to broach the subject, or have him do it? He chewed on his cheek, watching her unload her binder, pen case and book from her bag, when he really wanted to grab her shoulders and look into her face and demand that she explain what she was feeling, just how much she hated him and if he ever had a hope in repairing a shred of the damage he'd caused on Saturday.

He took another breath and leaned back, steeling himself for his next few words...whenever they decided to come.

Riza seemed oblivious to the chaos in his mind, quietly copying down a section from her book. She paused, then cited the notation, yawned, and then continued. Anyone else watching her would have said it was typical Riza, and that nothing had happened, but Roy knew that was a tremendous lie. She may have become very adept at hiding what she felt, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way clenched her teeth, and, of course, the way she was very, very careful not to come within several inches of him.

Unable to stand it any longer, the words burst out of him, making Riza turn to stare at him.

"Riza, Saturday night, I'm sorry, I was totally out of line and you were exactly right and I can't even believe I screwed up so bad so please just forgive me," he blurted, and she blinked in surprise. Something flitted across her face, something dark like hurt and anger, but then it was smothered by a cool indifference.

"Well, Roy, what do you want me to say?" she asked, turning back to her notebook. "'I told you so'?"

"It'd be so much better than this silence."

"I do get the feeling that what you're imagining is much worse than anything I could say."

"I just...I don't even know how I let that happen. And then going to your place..." He trailed off, wondering what had happened there. All he remembered were a few snippets of conversation, tea and then being shoved out by Riza, and, of course, being hit with something in the shoulder. It still throbbed, and he wondered what it could have been.

Riza stiffened, holding her breath. She turned to look at him, resting her pencil against her chin.

"What do you even remember from Saturday night?"

"Uhm...I remember the party, and then it gets sketchy. I walked to your place, hammered on your door, you let me in, and then I was being kicked out."

She blinked, surprised, and he had a sinking feeling. Riza straightened, cocked her head as she asked "And...that's it? You don't remember anything else that happened?"

"Well, no. I took a cab to Madame Christmas's place, got something for the next morning and went home. Then I suffered one of the worst hangovers of my life. Why, what happened at your place?"

"Nothing much," she sighed, leaning back in her chair. "You talked about how boring alcohol and sex were, tried to drink beer at my kitchen table and made me want to pull my hair out." Roy groaned and put his head in his hands, thankful and regretting that he had done all of that in front of Riza. She would never let anyone else find out, but also was the one person he didn't want to know.

"If it makes you feel any better, I threw up in the taxi cab on the way home," he offered weakly, and she gave a soft snort, shaking her head slightly.

"Charming," she said, then dropped her chair back to four feet and suppressed a sigh. He pursed his lips, knowing that wasn't enough.

"Riza, I never...I'm just sorry. I swore that I wouldn't let that happen again, I was so _sure, _and then I end up on your front step, the exact same as I was a year ago."

Riza laughed, shaking her head, and it seemed like something had lifted from her shoulders. She was still upset that he had broken his word, but she could see he was kicking himself off a cliff over it. He smiled at her, grateful to have worked his way back into her good graces.

"No Roy, I assure you, you were _much, much_ better than you were a year ago. You got drunk several times a week, you never remembered just whose heart you'd broken the day before-"

"Oh gosh, stop," he moaned, letting his head drop to the textbook again. Riza ignored him, ticking off his faults on her fingers.

"-you actually used the pick up line 'Your car broke down? Well, what do you say to riding a Mustang?' to a girl at a bar, and you missed multiple days of school because you had a hangover from a party in the upstairs bedroom of some house you didn't remember going to, and it got so bad that I had to be the one to drag you, who was wearing little more than your underwear, back to school."

"Stop, Riza, please, this is so much worse than yelling at me. No more, please, I get it!" he said, and he saw her mouth quirk into a small satisfied smile. Roy's heart leaped again, and he looked away, taking a deep breath to clear his head.

Riza rested her elbows on the table, voice changing.

"Roy...how do you want to handle this?" she asked softly, and he sighed.

"I don't know. All the party-ers saw me, but since I didn't do anything especially bad..."

"'_Especially'_ bad?" Riza asked, voice sharp, making him groan again.

"I danced with and made out with this girl, then had a drinking contest. I'm pretty sure I hit on just about every girl there, at least, every girl that I hadn't broken the heart of, and made a general idiot of myself."

"What kind of drinking contest?" she asked warily, and he shrugged, not wanting to say.

"Shots," Roy mumbled, then "I don't know what kind, specifically."

Riza chewed her lip, and they both considered the situation.

"Well Roy, you've really screwed up this time," she said, and he nodded, glad it was out. Riza wouldn't say any more than that.

The rest of the half hour was spent in amiable, if serious, conversation. They talked quietly about how they'd fix this mess, but neither of them could really come up with anything but to pray that nothing bad would come of it. Thankfully, there hadn't been very many people from St. Bradley's at the party, and the only one that could really cause any trouble had been Mike, but Roy doubted he would be able to use that against him, as he'd have to admit having been at the party as well.

When the bell rang, they stood up and gathered their things, more at ease around each other than they had been in a while. Roy couldn't help but smile to himself about it. All it took to make things a little bit better was a little calamity, it seemed. Of course, there would be serious consequences and Riza probably would bring it up in that quiet, subtle way of hers, but still, he wasn't really complaining.

As they reached the door way they said their farewells, as Roy was off to a jazz band practice and Riza had Armestian History. Acting without thought, Roy touched her shoulder, a brief reassuring touch that he hoped conveyed all the apologies he had left. She took a breath, as if to say something, but Roy was already walking away, not quite ready to face anything else.

After a rather energetic band practice that involved a light hearted argument between Ling, their jazz pianist, and the second trombone, Roy found himself walking with Maes towards the main building.

"So, I heard you had kind of a rough time over the weekend," he said quietly, and Roy shrugged. He didn't really want to go through this again, even with Maes.

"Just how much did you hear?"

"Just that you went to a party and got hilariously drunk. Jean said he would have recorded you being an idiot for a while if he wasn't afraid of you burning his bedsheets." Roy rolled his eyes, imaging the kind of pranks Havoc would have pulled.

"Yeah, not to mention I stumbled all the way to Riza's place and made a mess there." Maes shook his head and whistled, and he nodded glumly. "I thought Riza was gonna kill me, but I guess she thought what I was doing to myself was much worse."

"There's no doubt about that. I don't think there's a single person on this earth that is capable of making you feel worse than yourself." Roy just made a face and kept walking, thinking that in that respect, Riza could certainly give him a run for his money.

_After all,_ he thought as Maes kept talking, _look at how torn up I was in the library. That takes something special._

"So, all things considered, this little adventure didn't turn out as bad as it could have."

He shot Maes a look, who merely shrugged and adjusted his glasses.

"Look, it's definitely better than your second year. Not only were you the playboy wonder, you also had a penchant for committing arson."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Roy said casually, managing a rather insulted sniff, making Maes laughed and clap him on the shoulder. He didn't really like how it all came down to 'he wasn't as bad as he had been last year', as it smacked him in the face with just how bad he'd been. It was hard enough thinking about Saturday, and last year was practically impossible.

"Really, I don't. 'Arson' implies that I burned down someone's property for meanness' sake."

"Oh, okay. You just did it for kicks and giggles."

"Was there a single building burned down that wasn't already scheduled to be burned by the fire department later that day?" he asked, and Maes shook his head.

"You really are a piece of work, Roy Mustang. Sometimes I really wonder how a guy like me ended up being best friends with a guy like you."

"Pure luck," Roy muttered, and they entered the main building. Upon entering, they saw a rather irritated Edward Elric arguing with one of the secretaries.

"...whaddya _mean_ I can't reserve a practice room for my lessons?" he demanded, gripping the edge of the counter like he was about to crush it in his hands. As Roy and Maes walked closer, they found the secretary to be Margaret, the one who had harassed Winry on her first day.

"Does this look like a hotel?" she asked tartly, and Edward rolled his eyes. "You can't just reserved public rooms for your own needs. What's the point of the forty-five minute limit on the sign-up sheet, then?"

"I am giving someone a _lesson,_ as ordered by the _headmaster,_" Ed grit out, resting on his elbows and grabbing onto the top of his bangs, probably in an attempt to keep from throttling the woman. Roy and Maes walked closer, interested in the debate. "How am I supposed to do a good job if we have to spend half an hour looking for a room?"

"Mister Elric," she said, sounding highly irritated, "there are several _dozen_ places a person can officially practice, when you count practice rooms and classrooms not in use. That's not even counting the various corners and stairwells you little monkeys use, giving me a headache every day."

"Well Margaret, I think you should be a little more grateful for us little monkeys," Roy said, sidling beside Ed and smiling brightly at her. She scowled at him, and sighed through her nose like she just did not have the time of day for them. "Because, you know, it's our big monkey parents that pay for every single thing on campus, including you."

Margaret brushed a lock of brown hair from her face and snapped her folder shut, trying to think of response to Roy's comment.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't help you. _I'm_ not even the person in charge of it."

Edward exploded with a loud '_What? You've been wasting my time this entire-'_ before Maes could cut in.

"So, Margaret, who _is_ in charge of the practice rooms? Would we have to talk to the janitor, Bradley himself, what?"

"Sure, talk to him. He'll send you to the right place. But, at the moment, he's not in. You'll have to check back in later, probably tomorrow." Margaret turned her back on the three boys, utterly ignoring Roy and Maes' looks of surprised distaste and Edward's barely handled fury.

Ed whipped around and started stalking off, but Maes caught his shoulder, making him wait for the two of them.

"Hey, easy there, I didn't know you took this teaching thing so seriously," he laughed, and Ed grumbled something under his breath.

"I just want to do this right," he grunted, folding his arms. "I don't want some crappy report showing up at the end of the year to just screw me over."

"Really? 'Cause I heard you and Winry had a pretty rocky start," Maes said, and Edward looked away, scowling.

"Where'd you hear that? Is she running around say-"

"Rose told me," Maes said simply. "Seems Winry only told Rose, who asked me to sort things out. So, how 'bout it? Ease up on her, okay?"

"I'm not going hard on her in the first place!" Edward snapped, and Roy could barely suppress a laugh.

"Oh yeah? Are you working her like a slave driver, like you do with yourself, or are you taking into consideration that she hasn't played the piano in months and is more than a little rusty?"

Ed grumbled under his breath, making the two older boys shake their heads.

"I thought so," Roy said, glancing back at the office. Margaret was still scowling, but she seemed to have become more absorbed in a paperback she procured from somewhere.

"Oh yeah, like you're the one who can look down his nose on anyone!" he spat, whirling so he was practically toe to toe with Roy.

Edward wasn't much shorter than Roy, as he had experienced a serious growth spurt at the end of last year. Before, he'd been one of the shortest boys of the school, while his younger brother exceeded him by at least an inch. Now, he was just barely taller than Alphonse, which was a serious source of pride for the boy. It also managed to boost his already excessive ego, yet did little to dampen the rage words 'short', 'small', 'bean sprout' and 'tiny' managed to produce when used in the same sentence as his name.

"I heard about Saturday, _Colonel,_" he smirked.

"Yeah? One night's slip up as compared to months of beating up anyone who cast you a crooked look," he scoffed, and Ed's nostrils flared. Roy sidestepped Edward as though he was done with the conversation, when in actuality, he was trying to get out of reach of either of the boy's metal limbs. They really put Ed's money where his mouth was.

"Ha, alright! And when exactly are all these months coming from? Are you sure you're not reflecting your own faults on me?"

"What a way to treat the guy who helped you out back there," Roy sniffed, and Ed gave a loud, rough laugh.

"Oh yeah, _helped_ is the right word. Far as I could tell, you just took the chance to give Margaret a few smart words and walked away! Work on your helping skills, Colonel, that's all I gotta say."

Roy shot him a tight smile, thinking that Edward was the only person in the world who could piss him off quite so much.

"Just don't vent your anger on Winry, alright?" Maes called over his shoulder, following Roy upstairs to their English lesson.

"Yeah, okay," Edward grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I'm gonna love seeing this develop," Maes chuckled as they climbed the steps to the third floor.

"Yeah, me too. I haven't talked to Winry too much, but she seems stubborn enough to give Edward a good run for his money," Roy said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Let's just hope they don't kill each other first," Maes laughed, and Roy thought that that was highly possible in a place like St. Bradley's.

_**AN I just love writing for Roy. He thinks a little bit differently than everyone else.**_

_**The main pairings are awfully different, as well. Royai already has a foundation and problems, while in here, Edwin is just barely starting and it's all rocky and then we get to see them fall in love and I just laff it all XD  
><strong>_

_**Well, tell me how you felt about this chapter! I love listening to what you have to say.  
><strong>_

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<br>Toccata & Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
>Breakdown - Jack Johnson<em>  
><em>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven<em>  
><em>Sonata K. 545, Mo. 1 - Mozart<em>  
><em>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin<em>  
><em>Valse op. 69 'L'adieu - Chopin<em>  
><em>Why Georgia, Why - John Mayer<em>  
>I<em> Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<br>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones  
>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<br>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum (live in Blenheim Palace version. The other doesn't do it justice)  
>The Tower - Vienna Teng<br>_


	10. I've Got You Under My Skin

_**AN Whoa, this chapter! It's a lot longer than I expected, but also later XD Thankfully, it hasn't been a month (yet), so that's something! And gosh, I just love all the feed back you guys are giving me! Whenever I'm stuck, I go back and read that and get the urge to keep writing.**_

_**Also, tenth chapter, whoo! I love hitting benchmarks like this~  
><strong>_

Winry sat on the edge of the piano bench, trying not to fidget with the skirt of her uniform. The lesson hadn't really started yet, Edward was just closing the door, but this was probably the worst time. Those few seconds between her coming in and actually playing...it was awful. Winry always imagined the criticisms he'd make, her playing abysmally, just how long it'd take for him to realize how little she'd played a particular piece...

Surprisingly, those thoughts did little to endear her to either the lessons or Edward.

He bent over in his chair, rifling through the piano bag for a book.

"So," he said, finally pulling out what Winry had kindly dubbed as his 'Black Notebook of Doom', "what did you work on?"

It was her fourth lesson with him, and it was quite apparent that they would not get along.

Winry had to admit that, yes, she wasn't exactly doing her best to make a better impression on him, but he didn't really make her _want _to. She walked into the lesson tense, suppressed scowls at his comments and was generally hostile. He in turn became more surly and short tempered, barking out corrections and slouching in his seat.

They were a gloriously unhappy pair, and they had to stay together until the year ended.

It had started at the end of the second lesson. Before, they had been wary and awkward and still rather irritated at each other, but then Edward had pulled out her school schedule and started writing in dates. Winry had asked what he was doing, and he curtly answered that he was filling in her lesson dates. She had stared at him as he penciled in lessons every one to two days, each lasting forty-five minutes.

"You're not practicing enough," he added, "Make sure you practice everyday. It'd be better if you did an hour, but forty-five's fine. You'll never get anywhere, otherwise." The way he said it, like he didn't really care that she didn't have time to do all of this and still keep breathing. Winry usually had piano lessons after school, then she had to do homework_, _eat _and_ work. There was only a small portion of time before she went to bed that could be taken as Winry-time, and now he wanted her to stomp that into piano-time.

She had openly opposed this, and he'd nailed her with one of his golden dagger looks.

"Look, you wanna get better? St. Bradley's isn't a place for slackers, and I _know_ you're not one. So you need to suck it up and give this lesson just as much effort as your other classes, even though you've just got a kid from your year teaching you how to play an instrument you don't really need to study after this year."

The insinuation that she didn't take this seriously, that she was just wasting his time stung. Winry truly did want to get better at the piano, but she just could not see how she was supposed to find the time to do what he wanted.

Too indignant to explain herself, Winry shut her mouth, snatched the books from the piano and his hand, and stalked out. When she'd gone back to the dorm, she had ranted about him to Rose for about an hour. Rose had just sat there and handed her hot chocolate, smiling and shaking her head slightly when Winry finally stopped talking.

"You know Winry, he's not as awful as you think. He's...just tough to deal with at first. He may seem all angry and rude and terrible, but he's really got a heart of gold."

"Mm-hm, that's why he critiqued me into a paste."

"He's just passionate about the piano. At least this way you're sure to play the piano right."

"Ha, okay."

"Winry, really, just try being nice to him! He feeds off of what you give him, so if you're mean or hostile to him, he's going to be hostile because he doesn't see a point in being nice to a person who hates him. If you're nice to him, then he'll start to change. Try apologizing."

"For _what?_ I'm not the one who flipped out on him for no reason!" She folded her arms and dropped into a chair, working her jaw.

"He's had it tough, have some pity on him! His mom-"

"Yeah, she died. Well, _both_ my parents died in the War, and as far as I can see, practically _everyone_ has lost a parent, and they're not jerks like him!"

She sat there fuming for a moment, then caught the look on Rose's face.

"Okay, okay, that wasn't nice. I'm sorry about the parent comment, but still! I just-"

"Give him some time. Be a little nicer, and he'll come around."

Now sitting in the practice room, Winry chewed her lip, wondering how she was supposed to just...start being nicer. Was she supposed to make small talk, or smile at him? That would be weird, and he'd probably think her bipolar, leaping from sullen to cheery and talkative in only a few minutes. And did she even _want_ to be nice to him, did he deserve it? But she_ did_ have the entire year left with him, and it certainly wouldn't be so awful if they were civil with each other until the school year ended...

"Winry? Hey, _Winry." _She glanced around, blinking and paying attention. Winry blushed when she realized that Edward had been talking to her, and she had completely been zoning out.

"Uh-uhm, what?"

"...Never mind. I just asked what you worked on. Let's just start with scales," he said and tried not to sigh. Edward selected her book from her music bag and placed it in front of her. _D Minor _the top of the page said, and she took a breath, placing her fingers on the keys.

"Wait," he said, throwing a hand up. She looked at him, surprised until he said "Hair."

She sighed and pulled her hair out of its ponytail, retying it so that the long sections framing her face were pulled back as well. They had had a short argument over her hair style during the second lesson, where she said she was used to it and there was no point, and he said that there was a point, and her being used to it wasn't it. The _point,_ he'd said, was the fact that it could catch on her fingers, or even worse, the keys. Edward had won the altercation when he pointed that he was the teacher, and therefore had jurisdiction, not to mention he would pull her hair back himself if he had to.

Hair pulled back and now thoroughly ready to get this over and done with, Winry began playing. She went through the normal scale, then the harmonic and melodic. She stumbled, then tensed, wondering what he'd say. Edward just sat there, and she went on.

By now, Winry felt very well acquainted with how he acted. His body language clearly reflected how he thought she was doing, to the point where she could pick out what certain gestures meant. The way he nodded his head, how he sat, whether or not he folded his arms...they were a physical map for the way she was playing.

Of course, he never gave her good signs for very long, probably because she spent so much time glancing at him out the corner of her eye, instead of paying attention to the music. But no matter what he was doing though, folding his arms, shaking his head, whatever, he was always listening. _Always._

Once or twice she'd made the mistake of trying to slack off when he'd seemingly been spacing out, staring at his shoe or closing his yes. The first time he'd told her to do it again, and then the second time he'd speared her with a look and tone so harsh that Winry actually felt kind a bit ashamed. Nothing seemed to get past him, which really kind of scared and impressed her.

Edward nodded and told her to do the inversion chords of the scale.

_Crap._

Winry had neglected to practice those, she always did, and he _always_ asked to hear them. She straightened, shakily going through the first set of chords. He frowned, corrected her fingering here or there, but that was it, thank the stars.

He had her play through two of her pieces, writing in his notebook and giving her corrections here and there. He wasn't as harsh as he was normally, but Winry was still wary whenever he opened his mouth.

"Now, we're going to try a new piece," he said, and she raised her eyebrows. This would be her fourth piece since beginning practice with him, and she wondered if he was just going to continue loading her up with music until she was practicing twenty at once. Already, Winry had _Knight Rupert,_ the first movement of a sonata by Clementi and a waltz by Bach. What was Edward going to give her now?

"What about my other pieces?" she asked, trying to inject some more friendliness into her voice that she usually had. This wasn't especially hard, as she practically had negative friendliness whenever she spoke to Edward.

"Hm? You can drop _Knight Rupert,_ that was just something I had you play to get a feel for your ability. It's not really something I considered having you play long-term."

She nodded as Edward placed a piano book on the stand in front of her, saying "_Polonaise in G minor,_ by Chopin," and then felt her heart sink.

Edward didn't seem to notice this, and even looked satisfied with himself. Why, oh _why_ had he picked _Chopin,_ of all things?

"Scoot over," he ordered, and she switched seats with him, letting the boy sit at the piano. He extended his hands, a sudden look of calm on his face. Edward took a slight breath, then began with a loud, dramatic chord. Winry reluctantly found herself being swept away as he went into a swift arpeggio, then jumped back to the middle of the keyboard to press out delicate chords, then repeat it all.

Winry couldn't help it the dislike coursing through her. She was frowning through out most of it, even when Edward slipped into a cheery part of the song. The piece was _Chopin._

She could tell from the dramatic flare, the beautiful and sad notes, the _everything._ Winry sighed as he finished, trying not to let him see her discontent.

He turned to her, smiling slightly and said "Ready?"

She nodded, scooting over to reclaim her place on the piano bench.

"Just start with the right hand," instructed Edward, and she placed her fingers on the keys again, sighing. She felt him look at her, but didn't really care. Winry, without exception, _hated_ Chopin, from the waltzes to to the preludes. She just didn't like him, and had grown up listening to his music. When she was old enough to choose her own, she had found a blissful escape, but now...she was to _play _him, a cruel kick in the head.

Winry examined the piece, daunted by how complicated it was and how much she already disliked it.

"You can go slow," Edward said irritatingly, like he thought less of her because she couldn't launch into it like he had. She grunted and played the first chord, then the second, stretching her hand farther than she was used to. Without a word, she worked through the first page, becoming angrier and angrier at each misplaced note and each time she had to pause to work out a measure. It felt like the boy beside her was scoffing at her inability to play the piece as effortlessly as he had, but she refused to rise to the bait. Instead, Winry just set her teeth and continued fumbling along.

"That's fine," he said curtly, reaching up to pencil in a quick cross at the end of the page. "Now work on the left hand."

She suppressed a groaned and switched hands. When the song was finally over they only had a few minutes left, and Edward let her go early. He must have sensed her surprise, as he said "I've got to go somewhere, and there isn't time to work on anything else." He put his coat on over his uniform and then bent over to grab his bag, making his sleeve ride up. A small section of his wrist not covered by glove or sleeve was exposed, showing a flash of metal.

"What's that?"

Winry blinked a moment, before realizing that she had said the words aloud. The utter horror crashed over her, and she almost bit off her tongue. He blinked at her, not understanding. Figuring it was too late to go back, she pointed at his right wrist.

"What's that? I thought I saw metal."

"It's my watch," he said smoothly, and she nodded, feeling that something was off. A teen with a metal watch was a little weird, but she figured his family was rich enough to entertain whatever weird tastes he had.

Edward left without another word, golden hair swishing around the door. When she could no longer hear his footsteps in the hall, Winry heaved a heavy sighed, slumping out of her perfect pianist posture.

_That...was awful._

Admittedly, he hadn't been as short tempered with her as usual, but she wasn't exactly sure if it would last.

Winry packed up her bags, frowning at the piano a moment before covering the keys and taking the peg out of the lid, catching it so it wouldn't slam onto the body of the instrument. Somehow, despite the painful quality of the lessons, she still enjoyed playing the piano. Granted, not as much s she had before her parents died, but still.

Winry walked down the hallway, adjusted her blazer and opened the Black Notebook of Doom. As usual, his handwriting was thin and loopy, written at a slight slant. It looked like he'd spent years perfecting it, but lately had traded beauty for speed. Edward's comments were the usual 'Practice more,' or 'Don't slack on the eighteenth measure!', and even a 'Not bad emotion on the Clementi...but keep working on the technical stuff. That's sloppy.' She frowned, stuffing the notebook away in her bag without even looking at his comments on the _Polonaise._

"Hey, Winry! You just come from your lesson with Edward?"

The girl turned, breaking into a smile when she saw Ling.

"Oh, hi! Yeah, thank goodness it's over."

Ling smiled, but then said "You should have a better attitude about your music. How do you expect to dazzle someone if you're complaining about it all the time?"

"You complain about your music everyday!" Winry laughed back, and he stopped, giving a mock-offended look.

"What? No, never! I complain about Ran Fan working me like a slave, big difference."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, raising her hands. They started walking down the hallways, heading off to their next lesson.

"You should be. I practice of my own volition all the time," Ling continued, pulling out a granola bar. He unwrapped it, biting into it contentedly.

They exited the music building, and Winry laughed.

"No, seriously! I _have_ to practice that much if I want to stay good. I'm actually on Ed's level, but they wouldn't be an advanced student because I'm already an exchange student."

"Really?" Winry asked, raising her eyebrows, and he nodded.

"Yup. My father likes the old fashioned way of thinking that people should grow up well rounded, so here I am, piano prodigy since I was seven."

"What's your dad do?" she asked, and Ling shrugged.

"Oh, he's an important Xingese diplomat, but he wanted me to have a higher Armestrian education. Ran Fan got to come on sheer luck," he explained like it was no big deal. "She lives with her grandfather, and when he heard that I would be in Armestris this year, he offered to let her come with me. You should have seen her on the plane, she just about passed out from worry."

Winry laughed and waved good bye as they split paths, him heading towards the gym and her to the main building.

The rest of her classes passed quickly, and soon she was headed back to the dorms, allowed an extra half hour before she had to leave for work. Her thoughts returned to her lesson with Ed, and Winry reluctantly pulled out the Black Notebook of Doom when she reached her room. She dropped her bag on her bed, moving over to her desk.

The desk had been the replacement for the extra bed, and Winry had to say, it was a nice touch of home. Granted, she couldn't cover it with screwdrivers, gloves, bolts and other things required to make automail, but she could certainly cover it in the things that reminded her of home. Already the scrapbook Harry and the rest of her friends in Resembool had pulled together was sitting on the desk, pressed up against the wall. It was open to the middle, revealing the last page she had looked at, an old photograph of her grandmother juxtaposed to one of her neighbor playing with Den.

Now, Winry turned her attention to the Notebook of Doom, lips already pursed in distaste. She skimmed over the parts she'd read in the hall, then paused before reading Edward's comments on _Polonaise._

_Take it slow, you just started it, so don't worry. Work on measures five and six in the right hand especially. Left hand's good, but work on jumping to the chords._

She sighed, relieved it hadn't been worse. Actually, his notes were a lot kinder than usual, as she always felt the edge of reproach in them. Now, however, she could feel a sort of...excitement, the same she had felt coming from him in the practice room. Of course, that was just typical. He was psyched to see her play a song by a composer she just hated.

Winry dropped the book, noting that her next practice was tomorrow, but ignoring the last line of comments. She changed from her school uniform into a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt and a t-shirt, shivering when the cold material touched her skin. Winry grabbed her bag, shoes and keys and headed out, pausing in the kitchen to grab a drink. The dorms thankfully included a small kitchen, complete with fridge, microwave and stove top for everyone in the building to share. There were only a couple girls who ever seemed to use it however, the others seeming to prefer the school food. She liked the food herself, but sometimes Winry liked homemade food better.

She walked across the grounds, thankful that she had been allowed special permission to go to her job everyday. When she'd asked at the office, she'd been worried that Margaret would have shot her down cold, but Professor Grumman had been in the office at the time, exuberantly complimenting her for being so hard working, even though she was still in school.

The walk went by quickly, and soon Winry was back in the shop, pulling on a pair of coveralls and tying a bandana over her hair. She didn't have much on her list today, just a quick tune up for an older man's leg and then she could start fixing an arm that had suffered serious damage in a car accident.

Mr. Garfiel had decided that since she had worked on mostly automail her entire life, it was probably wise to let her keep working on that. He had shifted most of the automail duties over to her, while another employee was ordered to work on the cars. Winry had felt embarrassed that he had gone through the trouble, but pleased at the same time. Cars were good and everything, but they didn't have the realistic elegance automail did.

As she worked, Winry found herself wandering back to her piano lesson. Ignoring the Chopin piece, it hadn't been all that bad, she thought, working the palm loose. Edward had been in a good mood, and hadn't snapped at her more than once. She had to wonder if it was because she herself hadn't been hostility incarnate, or if he was starting to warm up to her. Winry traded her pliers out for a screw driver, brow furrowed as she thought.

The one thing that really weighed on her mind was that thing on his wrist she had spotted just as the lesson ended. He had said it was his watch, but had been on the wrong hand. Plus it had looked like one large plate, instead of several linked together. In fact, Winry could have _sworn_ it was more like...

The final screw in the plate popped loose, and she gasped, the realization hitting her. Her sharp inhale attracted the looks of Mr. Garfeil and another worker, and she gave a brief smile, waving her hand.

"Don't mind me, I just...shocked myself, that's all."

She turned back to her work, heart speeding up. Could that be right, could the thing on Edward's arm have actually been..._automail? _A thrill of excitement went through her at the thought, then a wash of sadness. What could have caused him to loose his arm, and at his age? She frowned, suddenly feeling a little more sympathy for him. If she had lost a limb due to what was probably a tragic accident, Winry had no doubt that she'd be considerably more hostile.

The more she thought about it, the more it fit. The gloves, the way he always adjusted his right coat sleeve... At first, she had thought it was just a nervous tick, but now that she believed he had automail, it only made sense that he'd want to hide it from people. Even in Resembool people had been picked on for having automail, even though it was a normal occurrence.

Winry shook her head, wondering how she'd missed it all this time. Granted, she'd only known him for about a week, and he'd done his best to hide it from everyone, but still, automail was her _life,_ or at least, had been. All the signs were so clear; the quiet clicks, the way he always wore his blazer, probably to hide the slight stains that came from consistent oiling, the way he had held his shoulder when it had rained a few days ago, like it ached...they were all obvious pointers for a person with automail.

Her head abuzz with this new revelation, Winry finished her work and headed home, wondering how she was supposed to act now. She knew she wasn't supposed to look at Edward any differently than if he had a normal arm, but she couldn't help but feel awkward, even though he wasn't anywhere near her. He obviously went to great lengths to prevent people from knowing about it, but she had figured it out. Winry felt like she had taken something valuable from Edward, and there was absolutely no way for her to give it back.

The next day, Winry felt anxious about her piano lesson. She just _knew_ she'd make a mess of things and he'd found out that she knew about his automail, and then he'd be even more irritated with her than usual. But there was always the chance that he wouldn't be...

She chewed her lip, heading over to a practice room. Winry settled at the piano bench, running through her scales. With a scowl, she forced herself to go through the inversions. If she didn't, she just _knew_ Edward was going to let her have it. Mind heavy with thoughts of piano, automail and the boy they all revolved around, Winry practiced her songs. She was even too preoccupied to think awful thoughts about _Polonaise._

When she was done, Winry went to her English II class. Class hadn't officially been let out yet, but she didn't want to be caught in the middle of the rush when everyone was let out. She had experienced that a few times, and decided that it was best to take alternate routes, rather than fight her way through the crowd. She cut through the lobby of the main building, pausing at the office to pick up another blank schedule. Her current one had been so filled with scribbles about classes and open practice rooms and lessons with Edward that it was an absolute nightmare to try and figure out without some serious contemplation. As she grabbed it, a confused looking student spoke to one of the secretaries.

"...what do you mean my uncle was here?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Hm? He came in yesterday, asked for you specifically."

"Man, that must have been Uncle Archie," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. Winry stifled a laugh as she walked away and the bell rang, considering the pros and cons of having an eccentric aunt or uncle. Her mother had had a brother, but her grandmother had told her he was the quiet, serious type, and had chosen to work up by Briggs for some unfathomable reason.

Winry's English lesson went by quickly, and with a thrill of dread, she realized that she had her lesson with Edward next. She took a breath, told herself to stop being ridiculous and headed back to the music building.

He was already there when she walked up, the door slightly ajar. She set her jaw and walked in, muttering a hello. He looked up in surprise, though whether it was the fact that she had actually greeted him or because she had actually taken him by surprise, she didn't know.

The lesson wasn't as bad as she expected, though it wasn't great. She couldn't concentrate, and found herself making about a thousand more mistakes than usual. Edward thankfully wasn't getting irritated with her, but had a resigned look on his face as he told her to repeat a passage until she got it right. Her Clementi piece was by far her best, and he smiled at her when she finished.

"Not bad," he said, nodding. "Now just make it faster."

At the end of the lesson, Winry let out a breath. Edward was writing a last few notes in the Black Notebook of Doom, and she again remembered Rose's advice. Figuring she had gotten pretty good results the day before, Winry asked "So, uhm, Edward. Are you going to go to the Halloween dance?"

The Halloween dance had been the latest buzz around the school. It was only two weeks away, and everyone was talking about their costumes and who they'd bring. Winry wasn't exactly sure what she wanted to wear, but she had a few ideas. Rose said she was going to be a pilot, Havoc a god from Xerxes mythology, and she even heard that Roy was planning on being a musician from the swing era.

Edward raised his eyebrows, closing the notebook.

"Why'd you ask?"

"No reason, I was just curious. You're just about the only person who hasn't talked about it yet." He shrugged, biting the end of his pen.

"I'm not much of the party person. I don't think I'll go."

"Really?" she asked, surprised. He shot her a look that said _'What, is there a problem with that?',_ and she struggled not to make a rude response.

"Oh, I just would have thought you would have jumped at the chance to wear a costume. Mobster or crime noir, something like that." She shrugged, and he laughed.

"Ha, yeah, it sounds fun, but I dunno. Really, if I were to dress as anything, it'd be Frankenstein."

Winry gave him a hard look, knowing exactly what she was talking about. He didn't seem to notice, however, and brushed his hair out of his face. As he reached up, his sleeve rode down, revealing a swatch of metal, far too large for the watch he pretended it to be. Without thinking, Winry blurted "Is that automail?"

Edward froze, then turned to look at her.

"Excuse me?" he asked, eyes hard. Winry pressed her lips together, not wanting to play the pretending game when they both obviously knew that his arm was automail and he was trying to cover it up.

"Your arm. You said it was a watch, but it's too big for that. The build is wrong, too. A watch has links-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, voice all ice. She narrowed her eyes, and he angrily met her gaze, daring her to press the matter. She took the dare and reached across him and grabbed his wrist, tugging the sleeve up.

The top of his forearm was revealed, showing the metal plating. There was something familiar about it, but before she could get a better look he snatched his arm back, jerking his sleeve down and jumping to his feet, eyes furious.

"Don't you _dare_ tell anyone," he hissed, and she leaned back, shocked at this development.

"I-what? Edward, it's not-"

"_Don't_," he snarled, grabbing his bag and whirling around, slamming the practice room door open and storming out. Winry sat there, frozen, jaw working in shock.

_What did I just do?_ she thought dumbly, putting a steadying hand on the front of the piano. She had _never _expected him to act like that, and now she felt like she had done something awful. Winry blinked back tears as she thought of the look of utter rage on his face, feeling the beginnings of anger spark in her own chest, but they were smothered by her sheer shock and guilt.

Feeling numb, Winry stood up and gathered her things, wondering distantly how things could have gone from being so good to so awful. She bit her lip, took a breath and told herself to pull it together. She'd work through this and figure out why he'd freaked out, and why it was so upsetting to her in due time.

Until then...well, she'd just have to deal.

_**AN Oh good, some development with Ed and Winry. Though, it's not really in the direction we all hoped for, lol. So, were the lessons what you guys all expected? I tried to make them seem tough, but at the same time not as terrible as Winry makes them out to be. I imagine that everything Edward does is magnified negatively in her head because she's holding a grudge XD**_

_**So, as usual, tell me your thoughts on the chapter, send me some songs, ask questions about the musical terms, do something! I'm always ready to answer.  
><strong>_

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin_  
><em>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<em>  
><em>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini<em>  
><em>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<em>  
><em>Toccata &amp; Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae<em>  
><em>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<em>  
><em>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding<em>  
><em>Breakdown - Jack Johnson<em>  
><em>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven<em>  
><em>Sonata K. 545, Mo. 1 - Mozart<em>  
><em>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin<em>  
><em>Valse op. 69 'L'adieu - Chopin<em>  
><em>Why Georgia, Why - John Mayer<em>  
><em>I Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones<em>  
><em>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<em>  
><em>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum (live in Blenheim Palace version. The other doesn't do it justice)<em>  
><em>The Tower - Vienna Teng<br>**Polonaise in G Minor - Chopin**  
><em>


	11. Duet

_**AN BLAH BLAH BLAH THINGS ARE BEING STUPID. I totally intended to get this out about a week ago, but school was like 'NOOOOO LET'S SLAM YOU WITH ALL CONCEIVABLE HOMEWORK POSSIBLE EVEN THOUGH THERE'S ONLY A WEEK AND A HALF LEFT' and I'm just like 'bluh'. Plus, the website kept eating chunks of the chapter so I had to rewrite it, which is never good. Rewrites are very rarely as good as the original write...or something. SO YEAH. IRRITATING.**_

_**But enough of that. **_

_**Thank you to every single one of you who reviewed! I just get so excited, especially when you say things like 'Oh, I love the music!' or that you have ALL THE FEELS, or leave long reviews telling me all your thoughts and hopes for the next chapter. Whenever I go back and read them, I want to wrap myself in all that emotion XD So, thank you for all sticking with me so far!  
><strong>_

Once Winry had stopped being numb, she started being angry. By the time she was out of the music building, she was absolutely infuriated. Why had he flipped out like that? It was absolutely ridiculous, so yeah, she had been a little rude reaching over to pull up his sleeve, but he'd been _way_ out of line! What was so awful about him having automail, anyways? He should have known she wouldn't care! He knew who she was, that her entire _life_ was about the prosthesis, or at least, had been.

She stormed to Clearwater dorm, glaring at the ground before her. It was almost lunch, and normally her lesson would end just as they were being released, if not after, but with Edward walking out, she had a few minutes before the bell rang. She scowled at the thought of having to look at people at the moment. As she opened the door, she decided that it was better if she just stayed in her dorm for lunch. She didn't have another lesson for an hour and half, which normally she would spend in the library, but this was a special case and she felt _very_ justified keeping people out of the war path.

Winry stomped in, dropped her bag off and went into the kitchen, grabbing a bowl out of the cabinet and slamming it on the counter. She grabbed the flour, sugar, eggs, milk and butter, measuring them out from a recipe she had memorized back when her parents were still alive.

"Whoa, easy there, I think you're going to break something."

With a jump, Winry whirled around to see Rose standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised in surprise. Winry turned around, still feeling grumpy, and grunted "What are you doing here? Why aren't you in the cafeteria?"

"I came back to get one of my practice books. What are _you_ doing?"

"I'm baking a _cake,"_ she snapped, turning the oven on so it'd be warm by the time the batter was ready.

"Should I ask why?"

"It's all because of that idiot Edward!" Winry practically shouted, grabbing the whisk out of a drawer and setting to the ingredients in her bowl. She heard Rose murmur "_Wow_," before moving to sit down at the tiny table in the kitchen.

The kitchen was more like a nook in the middle of the building, with a small oven and stove with a few feet of cabinets, a microwave and small fridge. A table barely a yard long was pushed against the far wall, with a window hanging above it to offer a nice view of the adjacent building.

"So, what'd he do this time?" Rose asked, and Winry sighed, most of the fight going out of her. She hesitated, not knowing how many people knew about Edward's automail and not wanting to bring more of his wrath down on her for spreading it around. Winry stayed quiet, eyes on her batter.

"Alright, we'll talk about that in a minute, then. What kind of cake are you making?"

"A white cake. I made it a lot with my mom before she died in the War," she said, pausing and setting the bowl down. Winry searched the cabinets a moment before finding cooking spray and a glass pan.

"I just...I don't know what I'm supposed to do around him," she admitted, and she heard Rose sigh from the table. "I was polite to him, like you suggested, and things were alright, for a day, anyways, and then I say something to screw it all up."

"What, did you mention his mom or something?" Rose fished, and Winry shook her head. She was leaning against the counter now, arms folded across her chest.

"What about his mom?"

"Oh, it's just she died when he was young, you know? And they were really close, and I guess he took it pretty hard. Actually, I think that was around the time he lost his...never mind."

"Lost his...arm?" Winry asked quietly, and Rose gave a sad smile.

"So you found out about that, then? Well, I'm not really surprised, I mean, your grandma was Pinako Rockbell."

"Yeah. She'd be pretty disappointed in me if I hadn't picked up on it. But still, I just...I don't get why he got so_ angry_!" she admitted, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes. Winry bit on her cheek angrily, cursing the fact that she almost always cried when she got angry. She _shouldn't_ be crying, not over something so stupid, not over him.

"It's kind of a sore subject...but I guess you already found that one out. How'd it come up?"

"Oh, it was stupid really," she said, and the oven beeped. She pushed herself off the counter and turned back to the cake batter. Winry sprayed and then pour the batter into the glass pan, talking while she worked. "Yesterday, I saw something between his glove and his sleeve, and I asked what it was, and he said it was a watch. But I kept thinking about it, and at the shop I realized that, holy crap, it was automail! And then I asked him today, and he tried to pretend it wasn't, but we both knew it was! He was just making a fool out of the two of us, and I just wanted it over with and I pulled his sleeve back and he...he got mad and told me not to tell anyone," she said, the first bit coming out all in one breath then the last part more slowly as she reflected on what happened.

"Then Edward stormed out of the place and left me there, and I don't know if he hates me, or if he's scared I'm going to run around telling everyone or what."

"Geez Ed, what have you done know?" Rose asked the ceiling, then spoke more loudly. "Look, Winry, don't get mad at him, okay, no, get mad at him, but don't be upset. He just...he's really worried about it. Ed will go blue in the face denying it, but he feels like his automail sets him apart from everyone, makes him...an outcast or something. And you just walking in and knowing, especially when he's so careful about it...it scared him."

"How many people know about it?" Winry asked, putting the cake in the oven.

"Oh, about seven, I think. There's me, Roy, Riza, Al, of course, you, Hughes, Ling, maybe Ran Fan," Rose said, ticking the people off her fingers.

"That few? And with all those people watching..." she murmured, and Rose nodded.

"And it took everyone a long time to find out, unless he chose to tell them. So you can see why it'd bother him when you just figured it out." Rose stood up, sighing slightly.

"Well, I've got to eat. Make sure you get yourself lunch and not just cake, alright? And give Ed another chance, or rather, show him you deserve another one."

Winry grumbled something about not being sure if she even _wanted_ to prove herself, but the older girl just laughed, shaking her head.

Over the next couple of days, Winry thought about what Rose said. It always crept to the forefront of her mind, because there was always something to remind her of him. She expected it at school, where he was a prodigy, both in the classroom and at the piano bench, but now even the autoshop got her thinking of him as she tinkered over broken automail.

She scowled, settling a little farther into her chair as her English teacher began answering questions on a poem they were studying. She only listened to about two before she started tuning it all out, doodling on her note sheet.

Now that she knew some of the reasoning for Edward storming out of their lesson, she realized how ridiculous it was that she was holding such a big grudge. And hadn't he proved that he could be nice when he wanted the day before he blew up at her? Yes, he had most certainly been more cheerful when she hadn't been a jerk herself. But that look he'd slapped her with before he left, all full of anger and incredulity...it was hard to forgive.

And even though there had been the edges of fear in it, Winry couldn't help but feel hurt that he would just assume the worst about her! Why would she run around, blabbing it to everyone when he so obviously didn't want people to know?

She sighed, not willing to let go of her own anger just yet.

When the period was over, Winry stood up and packed her things away, smoothed her skirt and headed out to Chamber Choir. Now that she was a ways in, she was really starting to love the class, as she knew the songs and had even made some friends. In her letters to Harry, she'd fretted that she'd never be able to make it through the first week, but Harry had written back and said she was being silly.

_You're a Rockbell,_ the woman had written, _and I have_ _never__ seen one of you ladies just let yourself be walked over, especially by a new school! _

She smiled as she remembered what Harry had written, dodging two people standing in the middle of the hallway. She crossed the courtyard and entered the music building, humming a song from the radio. The crowds had mostly died out now, as there were only two small classes in this section of the building.

Winry walked into the room for Chamber Choir, smiling at the teacher as he headed into his office.

The period began and Winry waved to Maria, who was across the room getting her music folder.

"Alright everyone, let's start with the warmups!" the choir teacher began, striding over to the piano and playing the introduction to one of their singing exercises. About ten minutes in, Winry asked to go to the bathroom, earning a pass and a 'Be quick!' as she went out the door.

She walked to the bathroom, hand running along the wall as she began humming again. Winry was just about to turn a corner when she heard two distinct voices, making her pause.

"...good _night,_ it was awful!" one of them said, making Winry's heart sink. It was Edward, of course it was him, that was just her luck! She stayed pressed against the wall, not wanting to turn back but not wanting to have to through the awkwardness of walking past them. The other person sighed, as if they had had this conversation _far_ too many times.

"I don't see how it could be as terrible as you make it out to be. I mean, she'd have to have two personalities!" That was Alphonse, his gentle voice carrying a slight edge of irritation.

"I'm _telling you,_ Winry's not the sugar girl you think she is!"

"I never said I thought she was a 'sugar girl'!" Alphonse retorted, and Winry closed her eyes. She'd never have expected Edward to talk about their lessons with _anyone,_ and she felt a flare of anger that he would.

But then...hadn't she done the exact same, practically yelling Edward's faults at Rose because she was so upset?

"I'm just saying that you're blowing things out of proportion. She's kind, really funny, too." Their voices were a little louder now, and she peeked around the corner to see they had stopped in front of a door, Edward's hand on the knob.

"Whatever. Just because you like her, doesn't mean I have to. 'Indeed, there is something about her which positively repels me...Is she really a woman? I'm inclined to doubt it," he said, making Alphonse let out an unamused laugh.

"Don't be mean, Ed," he said reproachfully, which was accompanied by a dull thump and a grunt, making Winry think he had smacked Edward in the stomach, "You don't have to worship her, but you have to acknowledge that she's a good person."

The door was pulled open as they continued talking then banged shut, but it was almost drowned out by a dull roar in Winry's ears.

_What a jerk!_ she thought, face warm from embarrassment and rage. _And he thinks he can_ _just...**quote **about me?_

Edward had used a quote by Chopin about a woman he had met named George Sand. He had absolutely _hated _her...until she'd become his mistress, but that was besides the point.

So, Edward thought he could just use the words of Chopin, rather than his own? He was well on his way to a permanent slot on her hate list, being a total jerk, insulting her behind her back _and_ tossing her least favorite composer to do the trick. It all just incensed her, but it also made her want to cry.

No matter what anyone said about Rockbells being strong, it still stung when something especially awful was said about you behind your back.

Winry paused, walked quietly to the bathroom and returned to choir. She closed her eyes as she got to her seat, just wanting the day to end.

* * *

><p>Edward put his hands in his pockets, glancing around as he pushed the side gate closed. Even though he was an advanced student and was allowed to go into the city at night, he wasn't exactly allowed to cut PE and go get a smoothie.<p>

He began walking down the street, pulling up the hood on his jacket. It was a little windy, but thankfully it wasn't raining. People filed past, talking on phones, chomping gum and reading newspapers, too involved in themselves to pay much attention to him. This was good, he didn't like having a lot of people staring at him.

Ed took a deep breath as he crossed the street. The truancy officers that hung around outside of the school weren't likely to catch him if he lost himself in the crowds a block or so away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he sighed, knowing that it was probably Roy or Al texting him, trying to figure out why he wasn't in class. They acted like they were responsible for every freakin' thing he did, when, honestly, he'd be just fine if they couldn't care less.

Regardless, he pulled it out, unlocked it and checked the screen, rolling his eyes at the handful of words asking where he was. He was about to tap in the words '_Going for a s__moothie',_ when he remembered that the heating plates in his arm weren't working. They had freaked out a few days earlier, which had irritated him, to say the least. Not only did it render his arm useless when it came to using his phone and mp3, it also meant his arm felt like the hunk of metal it was.

The two major benefits of having highly expensive customized automail was that it had a more natural shape to it, and that it came with specialized plates in it, including heating plates, more sensitive nerves and a better sense of pressure. The heating plates responded to the temperature of his chest so that it felt more like an actual arm of flesh and bone. He had been especially thankful for this when he'd entered St. Bradley's, as it allowed him to hide his automail more efficiently. Now that the plates were out of whack, the metal was warmed and cooled by the surrounding air, which would throw up some serious alarm bells to anyone who didn't know that his right arm wasn't skin and bone.

If he'd had his way, Ed would have gotten his arm fixed the day it broke, but his lack of faith in his current mechanic beat out his desire for secrecy and convenience every time he'd picked up the phone to schedule an appointment. The thought of the man rooting around in his arm, messing with the wires and screws and fiddly bits composing the mechanics...it nearly made Ed break into a cold sweat. He didn't really have much of a choice, though. His previous mechanic had been top notch, but complications had arisen preventing him from seeing her, and he couldn't just replace her at the drop of a hat here in Central like he would have were he in Rush Valley. The problem with customized automail was that not just anyone could come along and fix it up, it took someone with experience and talent, and he didn't have the time to go searching for a new person.

Besides, there were few mechanics willing to sign a legal gag to prevent them from telling a soul about his automail, which he just didn't understand. If he was going to pay them a grunt load for the foreseeable future, shouldn't they be okay with complying with the few requests he had?

Chewing his cheek in irritation, he switched the phone to his opposite hand and punched in 's_moothie' _as apposed to the planned sentence.

He crossed a street to enter a quaint cobblestone alley, tucked between a giant bookstore and a traditional looking apartment complex. This area of the city was a mish-mash of the needs and hobbies of the rich; bookstores, shopping malls, cinemas, parks and places of specialized education, like St. Bradley's. It was all artfully pulled together, stitched with strings of lights, trees and sky-high prices.

Ed rather liked walking the streets of this section of Central, as it all felt so picturesque and not incredibly screwed up like inside St. Bradley's or his own home. They were like any nice building - great as far as looks went, yet full of nasty little surprises the more you got to know it.

He strolled over to his favorite food stand, nodding at the woman standing behind the counter.

"Hey. You on break or...?"

"PE," he said, and she laughed, nodding.

"Right. Well, it's better than skipping Math, like I did. Geez, it's a miracle I didn't get kicked out of school. So, whaddaya want?"

"Uhm, let's make it a...mango strawberry," Ed told her after consulting the menu. She nodded again and turned to the blenders, expertly slinging in the ingredients.

"Don't you think it's a little cold for a smoothie, kid? Why don't you try something warmer, like a coffee? I could pop in a shot of caramel or som-"

"_No,_" he said in slight exasperation. He and the three people who worked the stand had a constant war of him ordering strictly healthy foods, while they tried to coerce him into the ways of unhealthy yet undoubtedly delicious foods. This had been going on since about halfway through his first year when he'd first found them, and even though he knew none of their names and vice versa, Ed felt they had a nice connection.

When his smoothie was finished, they made the exchange of bills and drink, he dropped some money in the tip jar, and then settled at one of the umbrella laden tables. His mind wandered back to his automail, then to Winry. She _was_ Pinako Rockbell's granddaughter, so she was bound to have learned some of the woman's tricks...but then, he _had_ been a total jerk towards her, and he couldn't just act like nothing had happened and request that she fix his arm.

Winry was kind of a complicated issue for him. On one hand, he didn't really dislike her as much as he made it seem. On the two occasions he'd really snapped at her, he'd been out of line and they both knew it, but then it had stretched on and _on_, until it was just too much for him. Plus, it affected her piano playing, which was _not_ something he would tolerate. Just thinking about it now irritated him.

She rolled her eyes whenever he corrected her fingering, scowled at suggestions on inflection, grit her teeth at his reprimands and was in general just about the worst student he'd ever met. He wasn't expecting her to be a master at the piano, and he knew that he was giving her a lot to work with, but he expected her to get over herself and put the work in.

He took an irritated drag on his smoothie, watching the people walking down the alley. Most were carrying shopping bags and a few umbrellas, and once or twice he saw another St. Bradley's student, looking spectacularly skittish and guilty.

_Amateurs,_ he thought, adjusting his hood and slouching in his seat, just waiting for the truancy officers to come after them. They followed fear like it was blood, which, thankfully, he hadn't had to learn the hard way. Though he _had_ had to deal with them actually following blood, but that had been expected.

Fights in which there was copious amounts of foul trash talking and near bone-breaking blows were a little hard to miss.

Ed chewed on his straw, mind wandering back to Winry. What was he supposed to do about her? Ordinarily, he'd just avoid her (that tactic had worked just fine on everyone except for Mustang, who tossed hints out the window when they didn't serve his purposes) or be as nasty as possible towards her, but he just didn't have the heart to be awful towards people to keep them away any more. He couldn't do either, though, because he had to see here at least four times a week, and he didn't really want practices to become even worse.

He had to wonder what she thought about him, or at least what she said about him to her friends. He himself had said some rather rude things, but then only to Al, who knew he didn't mean it. Edward knew she had been talking with Rose, but that was it. Had it been as mean as what he'd said...?

He groaned, thinking that this was ridiculous. Why was _he_ the one who always got pinned in situations like this?

Edward stirred his smoothie, mixing in the whipped cream. The woman behind the counter had been right, it was a little too cold for a smoothie; the ice mixed with the rising wind was doing a magnificent job of freezing him through. What he wouldn't give to get into one of his classrooms, or better yet, the warm student council room...

Maes had recently recruited him to work on the dance decorations. He wasn't especially psyched about it, but it was work and it'd get Al off his back about not doing anything but working out and playing the piano. The only draw back was that helping out meant that people were going to ask him about what he'd wear to the dance a thousand times more than they would have otherwise. They just didn't seem to understand that he _wasn't a party person. _Instead of explaining why, he passed out the excuse that he was very content to stay at home and watch horror movie marathons, munching on leftover trick or treating candy.

He stood up, smoothie in his metal hand to keep from thoroughly freezing the other one, thinking about the specifics of Halloween. He'd heard from Alphonse that their father wouldn't be home, so he could comfortably go and pass candy out to the people who stopped by. Edward liked manning the door on Halloween, he got to watch the expressions of the kids as they passed particularly scary lawn decorations and also see their costumes in detail. In his opinion, it was better than cable.

Waving at the smoothie lady he walked back down the alley, shouldering past the throngs of shoppers cooing over the tiny boutiques set into the alley walls. Edward was just zipping his coat up when he saw a woman with long, dark curly hair. He froze, examining her until he was satisfied she was just a random shopper.

_Good thing too,_ he thought as he let out a sigh, _'cuz I really don't need any extra stress today._

His first thought had been that she was a member of a nearby gang called the Ouroboroughs. They had been giving him trouble for little over a year, first seeking him out to recruit him, and then when he'd shot them down cold, either make him pay or force him to join. Ed didn't know which - he'd never given them the chance to explain.

When the school board had found out that he had had 'interactions with an illegal organization', they had with held his pocket watch until the next school year. He had explained over and over again that they had been seeking him out and not the other way around, and finally they saw sense, otherwise he would have had a lot tougher punishment than with holding privileges he'd never even had.

Aside from getting him in trouble with the school, his fights with the Ouroboroughs had caused Alphonse to tear him a new one on several occasions. He blamed Ed for causing such a fuss, even though Edward had to struggle to keep his face from being pounded in. He may have been a good fighter, but it would be tough for anyone to fend off four adult fighters at once in a secluded alleyway.

Lately, however, the gang had left him alone. He'd also taken active measures to avoid meeting them, like limiting his trips around the city at night, or wandering into unpopulated areas. This had worked pretty good, as he'd only had a confrontation with them once in the last few months. Even then he'd avoided going fisticuffs as the three people attacking him had been scared off by a cop car responding to a nearby house fire.

Edward finished his smoothie and tossed the cup into a trashcan, walking towards the school. He squinted to make out the face of the clock on the main building of the school, scowling when he saw that the period was almost over. He'd been out longer than he'd intended.

A shock of pain went up his right arm, making him grab his arm and freeze. His scowl deepened as he continued to the St. Bradley's, wondering what on earth was wrong with his arm now. His mechanic really was useless, and this episode only reaffirmed that he was probably doing more harm than help.

_Maybe I should just ask Winry for help..._ he thought, the scoffed at himself as he slipped back through the side gate.

_Yeah, like she'd ever consider doing me a favor now._

_**AN **__**Ed! I like writing for you! It lets people see past all your tough talk and gruff actions :) This chapter was pretty fun to write, and it also had a nice feel to it. Things are finally developing between them, and Ed had decided that he doesn't hate her! But the same can't be said for her...She seems like the kind of person to hold a grudge for forever and a day OTL **__**I also think it's very interesting that she hates Chopin, yet knows little tidbits about him. Something for you all to think on~**__  
><em>

_**Whoo, the homunculi have been introduced! I can't wait for them to get a bit of air time!  
><strong>_

_**Next chapter we're going to wander on back to Royai land. I have some stuff prepared, and I think you'll like it ;)  
><strong>_

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<br>Toccata & Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
>Breakdown - Jack Johnson<br>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven  
>Sonata K. 545, Mo. 1 - Mozart<br>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin  
>Valse op. 69 'L'adieu - Chopin<br>Why Georgia, Why - John Mayer  
>I Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<br>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones  
>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<br>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum (live in Blenheim Palace version. The other doesn't do it justice)  
>The Tower - Vienna Teng<br>Polonaise in G Minor - Chopin  
><strong>Raincheck - Art Farmer<strong>  
><em>


	12. Rilassamento

**_AN oh my gosh it's almost been a month again I APOLOGIZE. There really is no excuse this time, I've had all this time during the last few days of school and then after, and it just got left. I feel like...I don't even know what, but it's awful. Also, I tried making this a SUPER HUGE MEGA AWESOME GIANT CHAPTER but then I realized pfffft, no, that was stupid and not going to happen. Instead, I split it up into two chapters, the next you shall receive within the next few days if not tomorrow, I swear._**

**_ALSO. Thank you, thank you thank you THANK YOU to all the people who sent songs in to me! They mean a lot, because you've taken all that time and energy compiling them and then sending them in, plus it means you've been thinking about my story! It just makes me so sentimental~  
><em>**

With a huff of exhaustion, Riza slowed down the treadmill, stepping off with slightly shaky legs. She'd been in the gym for a couple hours now, and she just knew she'd be kicking herself later for doing such a hard workout. But when she thought about the alternative, an easier workout with time to think and wonder and worry about Roy, she decided sore muscles was infinitely better.

Roy...just thinking his name gave her a headache. What was she supposed to do? He didn't remember, that was clear enough to hurt. If he had...then what? Would he apologize, act like it never happened, say that yes, he had meant to kiss her and wanted to do it again and again and again...

Riza bit her cheek, telling herself that that was nonsense. She needed to stop this now, stop bouncing from anger to hope to confusion to despair.

_What happened to that cold, calculating Riza everyone's afraid of?_ she asked herself, straightening her shoulders.

With a scowl, Riza headed over to the wall, where a paper towel dispenser and disinfectant sat. She grabbed some paper towels and the disinfectant bottle and headed back to her treadmill, spraying and then wiping off the touch pad.

In her opinion, all of this stress stemmed directly from her inability to practice tennis (aside from Roy). Before, when it all got to be too much, she'd just put on her skirt, grab her rackets and head down to one of the courts. Shooting a gun at a range was good and all, but there was something about physically slamming the ball into one of the practice boards that just beat out pulling a trigger and punching a hole in a target at the other end of a gallery.

Now, though, she couldn't play. A few months ago, she had sprained her ankle and her doctor had strongly suggested that she take a long break from tennis, else she have an even worse relapse. Riza had taken his advice, but it had broken her heart to do it.

"Hey, girly! It's been a while since I've seen you here. You here for the tennis court?"

Riza turned at the sound of her name, spotting Rebecca Catalina walking over towards her. She gave a halfhearted smile, then sighed slightly, putting her hands on her hips.

"You know I can't practice tennis, Becca. My ankle, remember?"

Rebecca nodded, tapping her hand to her forehead.

"Oh, right, sorry, force of habit, I guess." Rebecca shrugged, a slight smile on her face and looking like she had just come from her own workout. She had her bushy dark brown hair pulled back into a bun (though quite a few strands were sticking out wildly in the front), and she was wearing a t-shirt and the capris equivalent of yoga pants.

"Hey Rebecca. I just haven't had time lately," Riza sighed, running a hand through her bangs.

"Yeah, I bet. A couple days ago I picked up Mustang's schedule when he dropped it, _wow,_ I felt tired just looking at it. Knowing him though, I bet he's dumped all the hard stuff on you."

"He has _not,_" she retorted, rolling her eyes and thinking that the real trouble with Roy wasn't work related. Rebecca gave a slight '_hmph'_ of disbelief, and Riza wondered if she'd ever stop giving Roy a hard time. His relationship with Rebecca was interesting, to say the least. One day they would be at each other's throats, and the next they'd be aligned in the badminton team from hell in gym. Riza had just stopped trying to figure out how to label their friendship and labeled it as 'it's complicated'.

"Roy's a hard worker, _as you know._ And he doesn't just shove off the gross tasks to me."

Rebecca gave her a face that said '_Oh **really**?', _and Riza added a small "Often," to her statement. Rebecca chuckled, shaking her head.

"Someday, you'll be able to enjoy high school like normal people do. Maybe you'll even go to one of the socials for the sake of having fun!" she said, giving one of her facetious light-bulb popping looks. Rebecca's expression turned a little more mischievous as she said "_Maybe,_ you'll even have a little fun with _each other._ Ever think of _that_, hmm?"

Riza rolled her eyes, thinking that having such a perceptive and overwhelmingly _sassy_ best friend was little more than frustrating at times.

"Will you leave that alone, Becca? I've told you, _we've_ told you about a thousand times, it's not like that!" she snapped, mind on the last few days. Everything that would have said otherwise was countered by something else, around and around until she just wanted to go to bed. Roy had kissed her so openly, so _honestly_ it hurt, but then had called her 'one of those things', which was tantamount to saying that he was just kissing her because she was the only girl around. He'd been legitimately remorseful that he'd broken his promise, had let her down, but he'd also forgotten everything important that had happened.

Admittedly, he couldn't control that, but still. It wasn't something Riza was going to just let go.

And then on Monday, after they'd sorted everything out and were heading in different directions, he'd gone and touched her shoulder. What had _that_ been about? Before, he _never_ did anything like that, never..._touched_ her, it was all so much more subtle. A look, a smile, a wave, simple little things that didn't involve _him touching her, _but he'd changed the rules all of a sudden. Roy had touched her shoulder, and she'd been about ready to drag him off so she could spill her guts and let him know exactly what had happened at her house and demand just what he felt and if it all had been because of the booze and if not did he really mean to cross The Line because if he had she was absolutely okay with it and just wanted him to realize what _she_ felt, because she was so incredibly tired of telling herself no when she really wanted to hear him say yes.

She sighed through her nose, thinking of how jumbled she'd felt, then realized that Rebecca was still right there, making the '_Yeah, I don't believe you'_ look.

"You know, you don't have much room to talk," Riza said, starting to wind her way through the ellipticals and treadmills, heading towards the women's changing rooms. "You and Havoc, haha, _oooooh_, you two. If you can say that Roy and I are a couple, then I can say that you and Havoc are one."

"Ugh, different!" Rebecca snapped, jogging to catch up with her. "You two are, like, _perfect_ for each other. One of you gets a paper cut, and the other _winces_, kind of perfect. Havoc is..." She wrinkled her nose in distaste, and Riza couldn't help a laugh.

"Don't be mean, Rebecca," Riza reminded, and Rebecca sighed.

"Sure, I guess he's _tall_ and has nice _hair_ and takes care of how he _looks_, and he's not that know-it-all kind of smart, and of course, he's got all the money he needs to take care of any girl he _does_ end up with, but..."

"_But?"_ Riza asked, well versed in Rebecca's pickiness when it came to suitable males. Even if one was her ideal dream man, there'd be _something_ wrong with him. His hair was a weird shade of brown, his eyes were a little _too_ intense, he was too tall, he wasn't tall enough, he had a mole on jaw that she couldn't tear her eyes away from, he was too good a kisser to be a loyal boyfriend. Something, always _something,_ and Riza just got to the point where she listened more out of personal entertainment than anything. Rebecca's rants were rather hilarious things when you realized she was getting so worked up over a simple thing like a shirt someone wore a month ago.

"He smokes," she said simply, and Riza raised her eyebrows. That was a new one, she never sounded so calm when complaining. "I mean, yeah, he hides it great, but can you imagine _kissing _him? That's like...exchanging spit with an ash tray!"

"Alright, legitimate concern," Riza conceded, turning the corner to enter the changing room. "But I don't believe that it's a different situation. Everyone thinks that you two are going to have a billion babies by the time you're twenty-five, and they think that Roy and I have been sleeping together since we were first years."

"I still get a kick out of that one, honestly."

Riza put down her water bottle, frowning at her friend.

"I'm glad _someone_ finds that funny," she said flatly, and Rebecca waved a hand. "It sometimes makes me think that I'm going to have to leave Central to escape the rumors."

"Riza, Riza, _Riza_," Rebecca said, pausing after each word and shaking her head dramatically. She put her hand on Riza's shoulder, and Riza had the intense feeling that Rebecca wasn't going to let this go.

"Just tell me something. Answer my questions, that's all. How many classes do you have with Roy?"

"Three," she said, earning a raised eyebrow for knowing that off the top of her head. She ignored the look and turned to her locker, entering in her combination.

"Okay. And how many clubs and extra curricular activities are you in together?"

"Two and a half."

"_Half?"_

"I'm not really in the Youth Philanthropy club, I'm more..."

"His secretary?"

"Either way, I'm not in it!" Riza snapped, then bit her cheek at Rebecca's smirk. She just loved needling Riza in a way no one else could. Riza took a deep breath as she rifled through her bag, grabbing her towel and spare change of clothes.

"Right. How many times do you eat lunch with your little posse?"

"Just about everyday. Well, not always _together,_ sometimes Havoc sits with other people, and he takes Breda or Fuery with him."

"And Havoc and Roy are good friends. And he sits with him...about three days out of the week?"

"Yeah..." She frowned at Rebecca, who looked like she was just barely suppressing her laughter. "Where's this headed, Becca?"

"Hold on. How many times do you eat with Roy? Everyday. How often do you spend your break with him, meet him after school, eat dinner with him and the others on Saturday nights? _Almost always._ Reez, I'm telling you, there's something more than an epic broship between you two."

"_Stop it,_ Rebecca. There is _nothing_ between us. Roy hasn't looked _twice_ at me, and if he hasn't tried something by now, then I think that's a sign." Riza managed to not slam her locker shut, but ended up storming to the showers. Rebecca followed after her, trying to get the tail end of her argument in before Riza got in the shower.

"Mm-hm, and I think that's a sign, too! It's just not the kind you think it is."

_"_Go _away,_ Rebecca," she said shortly, yanking the curtain between them. Rebecca huffed, as though she was the one being harassed by Riza, instead of the other way around. Riza tugged off her socks and shoes, wishing her friend would just leave instead of continue practically shouting at her over the curtain. It made her think about things she was trying desperately to ignore, and, of course, it was embarrassing, having this matter broadcasted for every single person in the locker room to hear.

"Where are you going that's got you all in a hurry, anyways?"

"I've got to go see someone."

"Is it Roy_?_"

"It's my grandpa! He's taking Black Hayate for the weekend," she snapped, and Rebecca laughed. She turned on the water and rolled her eyes, wondering if Rebecca was every going to _go away._

"Fine. Just think about what I said, Riza! I think there's something there for you to pursue there, if you wanted to."

Riza began getting undressed, but stood there a moment, letting the irritated and stubborn facade slip away. She looked at her feet, wondering if Rebecca was right. She was usually spot on about these things, but it felt wildly different when it was about her, and especially when it involved Roy.

"Do you...really think so?" she asked, and could tell that Rebecca was smiling when her voice became softer.

"Yes Riza, I really, _really_ do. And I wouldn't be telling this if I didn't see the way you look at him."

"And how do I look at him?" Riza demanded, voice becoming hard again.

"Like you're hiding every single thought in your head. You wouldn't do that if there wasn't something special about him...Anyways, I've gotta get going. Maes has been freaking out because he wants us to finish the decorations by next weekend, and I'm in charge of the banner."

"Alright...See you later, Becca."

"See you. And _think_ about what I said, I'm serious!"

"_Go,_ Rebecca!"

Riza chewed on her cheek as her friend left, then straightened her shoulders and took down her hair. She stepped under the water, mind heavy with all the arguments that had been brought up in the last few minutes.

Yes, she liked Roy, and yes, when he'd kissed her almost a week ago, it had felt absolutely wonderful, but she was too scared of being hurt to pursue it. Had he kissed her because he'd really meant it, or because he'd been smashed into a thousand pieces? And what if they _did_ end up getting together? The rumors would go wild, and then there would be practically _no way_ he'd make it to student body president.

Riza didn't think that she was so selfish as to steal Roy's future if it meant some special sort of happiness for her. He was going somewhere and was intent on helping people. She couldn't justify herself like that.

The worst bit was that she had no idea what he even wanted. It was like she said, Roy hadn't even flirted with her, not even the first time they met (though that truly could have been because he had been nursing a hang over and she exuding as many you-disgust-me-don't-talk rays as possible)...though lately, some of the things he'd done had made her wonder, though Riza had projected her own feelings onto him wasn't an option she had fully thrown out. But what if Rebecca had been right, and that the lack of..._anything_ had been because he hadn't wanted to push anything unwanted onto her? Maybe he even respected her so much that he'd kept his distance, waiting for _her _to start something!

_No...no, now you're losing hold of yourself. Don't get too wrapped up in this, Riza!_

But how couldn't she? Rebecca had just proved just how often Riza saw him, and it was a little hard to block tough thoughts and memories out when she was looking into Roy's intense, clever eyes.

She washed off and got out of the shower, wondering how long things were going to be like this.

* * *

><p>Roy pulled up to the copy store, his phone going off. He pulled it out of his pocket as he got out of his car, answering it when he saw it was Riza's name on the caller ID.<p>

"Hello?"

"Hey Roy. You called earlier, what was it about?"

"Oh, I was just gonna tell you that I can't help out with the decorations tomorrow, so you'll have to rope Falman into doing it."

"Something come up?"

"Yeah. I've got a meeting that was changed unexpectedly." He tugged open the door to the copy store, nodding in hello to the man behind the desk.

"Meeting? Is this meeting-meeting, or date-meeting?"

"Meeting-meeting," he said, trying to quell the spike of annoyance at her assumption. Ever since his utter screw up with the party, she'd had all eyes on him, questioning every single move he made. Roy knew that she was just watching out for him, but he wanted her to stop acting like his babysitter and more like...he didn't really know what.

He stopped in front of the far wall, thumbing through the sheets of paper. Maes had asked him to get some extra paper for the Halloween decorations, since he had nothing else to do and also had a car, but after visiting three stores already without any luck, Roy was starting to rue ever talking to Maes in the first place. Not only was it eating up his limited free time, the gas was starting to wrack up. Despite being the heir to a his parent's fortune (and Madame Christmas's, though off the books. Somehow, people weren't allowed to bequeath money made from brothels to their relatives), Roy had developed a streak of frugality that was almost comical.

"The Key Club wanted to talk about a fundraiser between them and the student council, and they didn't see a point in waiting another four days. According to them, November is tough to fundraise without some sponsor, and they've got one all lined up. If they wait too long though, some time slot will be filled and then it'll be December, which is the demon spawn month for fundraising."

"I can imagine, with all of the holiday stuff going around. Where's it going to be at?"

"A restaurant I've been to a couple of times. I have to wonder though," he said, holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he searched a stack of papers on a rather high shelf, "are they doing it them to impress me or to feel all grown up?"

Riza laughed, and he smiled to himself at the sound. She really didn't laugh enough.

He found the papers he was looking for and gave a sigh of relief before asking "So, what're you doing?"

"Oh, just walking home from a coffee shop. I just finished dropping Black Hayate off with my grandfather."

"Do you want me to pick you up? I'm already in town."

Roy walked to the cashier, sheaf of papers in hand. He set them on the counter and pulled out his wallet as the man behind the counter rang him up.

"Oh, no," she said after a pause, "I'm only a block from my house now. Thanks, though."

"No problem," Roy said, handing the cashier his money taking the paper. "So, any special words of advice, in case I don't see you again?"

"Don't let your guard down around them," she said without hesitation. "All the important officers are connivers, and they're going to try and twist you any way they can."

"Sounds scary," he said, opening the door to his car. "Anyone in particular?"

"The president and treasurer, Blake and Trevor. They're pretty sly. And then there's the secretary, Miranda. She's not as bad, but I've heard some rumors about her."

"I'm shaking in my boots," Roy commented, turning his car on and backing out. "These clever devils may just be too much for me."

"Don't be snarky," she told him, and he laughed.

"Listen, take some time off," he told her, thinking about how tired she'd looked over the past few days. Their work load for school had not only increased, now that they were third years, but they also had the weight of helping put on the Halloween dance, which was turning out to be considerably more difficult than they'd imagined.

"Go buy a costume for the dance or something. Can't have you dropping dead on me."

"Yes, because you _know_ how much I love that," she said, and he could just see her rolling her eyes.

Halloween was a trying time for the both of them, mainly because their childhood of bad costumes and even worse jokes. Because of their last names, Roy and Riza had gone through _years_ of being dressed respectively relating to a horse or a bird. People just thought it was hilarious or cute to see five year old Roy Mustang eternally wearing or riding a pony, or to see five year old Riza Hawkeye wearing a bird suit. As soon as they were able, Roy and Riza tossed those tastelessly theme costumes in the trash and went with something that didn't have anything to do with their name.

The terrible jokes remained, however, as they met more and more people who thought they were incredibly original, asking if Roy was going as a cowboy, or Riza a harpy. Havoc, for instance, never failed to spring that line of jokes on them every single year.

Roy laughed, then said "I've got to go - driving and all that."

"Don't want you getting a ticket," she said, then gave a soft "Bye, Roy."

"Bye."

Roy hung up, wondering just what tricks the Key Club officers had up their sleeves. He couldn't help himself and grinned, curious as to who'd come out on top the next day.

_**AN oh wow look at this chapter. a long congersation after a workout and a meaningless conversation while getting office supplies i'm on a roooooooll asdfjkl;  
><strong>_

_**I had something to say, but I can't remember it now OTL Eeeeeh, can't wait for Roy and Riza's relationship to develop. SOMETHING NEEDS TO HAPPEN, I JUST CAN'T TAKE THIS TENSION. (anyone else notice that whenever jean or rebecca are on screen, i end up talking about how great they'd be together? i feel so not subtle nor clever)  
><strong>_

_**Finally, here's the soundtrack! Not all the of the songs you guys handed me are on here, but don't worry! I try to coordinate them with what happens in the chapter, so the ones I feel that relate to Ed or Winry won't show up until it's one of their chapters. :)  
><strong>_

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<br>Toccata & Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
>Breakdown - Jack Johnson<br>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven  
>Sonata K. 545, Mo. 1 - Mozart<br>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin  
>Valse op. 69 'L'adieu - Chopin<br>Why Georgia, Why - John Mayer  
>I Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<br>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones  
>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<br>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum  
>The Tower - Vienna Teng<br>Polonaise in G Minor - Chopin  
>Raincheck - Art Farmer<br>__**Waterfall - Jon Schmidt  
><strong>__**Give Me the Simple Life - Jamie Cullum****  
>Still Love - Holly Brook<br>****Familiar Taste of Poison - Halestorm**  
><strong>Rilassamento - Gianni Pavesi<br>****Hope - Royal Tailor**  
><strong>The Soldier - PJ Harvey &amp; John Parish<br>You Will - Lia Ices  
><strong>_


	13. Soldier

**_AN Ohohohoho, this chapter, I laff it with all my soul. And wow, look at this update, three days later, just like I promised! (well, kind of, but whatever.) I'm excited for everyone to read this, because I feel like it solidifies everything I've been hinting at. And thank you everyone for your lovely, lovely reviews! They all made me so happy, and I really just want to gush, gush, gush at everything you've told me! They all mean something special._**

It was starting to turn cold outside, but Roy stayed put, shoving his hands a little deeper into his pockets. He had arrived at the restaurant a little early, determined to make the best business impression on the Key Club students as possible.

_Get there early, give nice, warm smiles, get 'em to think they're totally in control and act like you're utterly at ease with everyone_, Madame Christmas had told him time after time as he'd grown up._ You're gonna be going into the business, and you'll need to know how to schmooze people if you're gonna make it grow._

Madame Christmas had been right, as he'd found that nine times out of ten when he had got exactly what he wanted by following these rules. They didn't apply just when he was working, as well. Numerous favors, dates and the like had been won by those simple little tricks.

Roye let out a tired sigh, watching his breath catch the yellow light from the street lamps vainly trying to cut through the night. He glanced at his watching, thinking that they should be there any minute.

He had to admit, he was a little nervous over this meeting. Was it because of the catastrophe that the _last_ meeting was, or because he had a desire to impress both the key Club and prove he wasn't what they thought he was? Rumors had spread about him and the party, though they were rather vague, thank the stars. He would have expected the Key Club to politely back out of the meeting to preserve their image, but when he'd talked to the vice-president, he had sounded as excited as ever.

Still, Roy had taken deliberate care when he had dressed that evening, which he only did when especially nervous. After debating and worrying and changing clothes at least three times, Roy had stepped out of the bathroom and presented himself to Jean, who raised his eyebrows.

"Wow. You're really out to dress to impress today, aren't ya? What, you wanna get laid or something?"

"Shut up, Havoc," he'd grunted, scowling at the blonde and brushing the front of his vest self-consciously. He was wearing a white button down shirt with blue pinstripes, a black vest and grey slacks, topping it all off with a rich dark blue tie. He grabbed his over coat, tugging it on as Havoc continued.

"Seriously, though. What's got you all worked up?" Havoc was leaning against the window sill, unlit cigarette in hand.

"Nothing," Roy said shortly, pausing over his scarf and deciding against it.

"Roy. You're wearing the blue tie. That is, without a doubt, the most expensive tie you own, and also your little safety blanket. What's up? Is it the Lieutenant?"

"It's not Riza," he said testily, and Havoc raised his eyebrows again, hands pulled up as if to show they were empty.

"Okay, it's not Riza. Got it."

Roy scowled, feeling guilty for letting his temper spark at Havoc like that.

"It's just, I have a meeting," he admitted, and he despised the knowing look Havoc gave him. Why were people determined to question him on everything?

"A meeting or a_ meeting?" _he asked, and Roy grabbed his keys, scowling a little harder.

"A real meeting! I just...I don't want to mess it up. I've screwed up enough already, and I can't do it again."

Jean nodded after a moment, then gave a him a smile.

"Don't worry. You'll knock 'em dead, Chief. "

"Thanks," he said, turning to leave. "Don't smoke in the dorm when I'm not here," he tossed over his shoulder, then opened the door.

Roy shut the door as Jean grumbled "Yeah, heaven forbid I get a quiet little break where no is harassing me about having a relaxing smoke," which made Roy truly smile.

Now, outside the restaurant, Roy took a soothing breath. He could do this, he'd done meetings like this dozens of times before.

"Hey, Roy!" someone called, and he turned to wave at Miranda, the secretary for the Key Club. She half jogged, half walked over to him, smiling big.

"Miranda, good to see you," he said, flashing a warm smile that hid his surprise.

Shew as wearing makeup today, and not just the light additions that made her eyes bigger or drew more attention to how well a hairpiece accented her hair color or whatever. This was _makeup,_ with the dark red lipstick, eyeshadow fading from black to pink and even something something done to her face to bring out her cheek bones. He couldn't tell what she was wearing, as she had a knee length pea coat on, but the black strappy heels she wore suggested it wasn't going to be something cutesy and pink.

Over all, it made her look dark and beautiful, and that was about the time Roy started to feel his stomach clench with worry.

"Do you know when Blake and Trevor are coming?" he asked, and her smiled dropped a little.

"They're not coming. Didn't Blake tell you? Ugh, he caught something nasty after school, he's been puking all evening. And Trevor had to fly out for family business, I'm not sure what. Jeez, Roy, I'm so sorry no one told you! But, uhm, I we can still hold the meeting, right?" She bit her lip in worry, and Roy nodded after a moment, trying to hide his confusion. Hadn't Riza said they were both total schemers? But then, they couldn't control family issues and illnesses, so while their absence was peculiar, it wasn't overly questionable...as long as the story was real.

"Alright, no, that's fine! Just make sure you take extra good notes," he told her, and Miranda laughed as they headed in.

Once they had been escorted to their reserved table, now a little roomy with just two people, Roy pulled off his coat, settling it onto the back of his chair. He sat down as Miranda unbuttoned her coat, taking their menus from the waiter.

"Oops, wait, do you mind if I stop by the powder room?" she asked, standing up halfway. Miranda looked mildly embarrassed, but he gave her a reassuring smile. She stood up and stepped back from the table, looking unsure.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not, go ahead," he said, and she started walking past him. He watched her go, glanced at her as she went by, really, but that didn't stop him from catching the prime view of her bare legs, or more specifically, thighs.

He picked up his menu, eyes on the soup section, when on the inside he was kind of freaking out.

It would have been physically impossible for Roy to deny that one of the absolute most attractive parts of a girl were her thighs. So when he had the image of the better parts of Miranda's thighs practically burned into his mind thanks to the dark green mini dress she was wearing, it took a very considerable effort on Roy's part not to go into total slut mode and flirt with her until she was practically begging to get into bed with him.

Roy took a sip of ice water, trying to calm down. This...this wasn't the Miranda he knew from school, was it? Sure, she always looked like she took a little extra care in the morning when she got ready, her blouse always ironed, hair just so, but this...No, surely something was different. And how was he supposed to act? Just go with it, or act uncomfortable? Or should he go with his more traditional route?

He paused, imagining just how Riza's face would drop as he sat there, either telling her the disgusting truth of how he had ended up going to Miranda's house and ripping off her clothes, or giving her lies she saw through with ridiculous ease.

No, no, no, _no,_ that was _not_ something Roy was going to do, he wasn't going to hurt everyone like that, especially not Riza. He just wouldn't have been able to stand seeing her cover up all the pain again, see her pretend that she didn't care because she probably cared more than anyone else.

Miranda came back from the bathroom, and he studiously focused on the menu until she sat back down, legs hidden beneath the tablecloth.

The next fifteen minutes were the most awkward and agonizing fifteen minutes Roy had ever lived through. They ordered drinks and their meals, and Roy did his best to keep up light conversation that said absolutely nothing was wrong. Then, as they had been given a second round of bread sticks, Miranda leaned over to grab a new one. Her breasts were on full display, and Roy just _knew_ this had been no accident.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" he asked, and she nodded, and Roy got up, heading to the bathroom so he could have a full scale break down.

Once inside, he braced his hands against the wall, letting his head hang.

What was _that?_ Was there some memo he hadn't gotten, some sort of strange, twisted joke he was the butt of? Roy quickly ran through the list of people that would try this, but no, they wouldn't be so cruel as to tempt him, not now, not like this. Hadn't they seen how torn up he'd been after the party? And didn't they _know_ him well enough to realize how much of a struggle this was?

No...this wasn't a joke, he decided. This was something much less flattering. The realization hit him, and Roy felt utterly disgusted.

The Key Club...they were using Miranda to get to him, quite literally. She was going to try and twist his affections (or at least his physical desires) until he was on hand and knee, ready to do anything she (aka the Key Club) wanted. They were trying to work against him, to steal his contacts and information and everything in one swift move. He had thought he'd been the only person in the game, the only one who mattered, anyways, when really...there were so many other players in the field.

_They're just not good enough to beat me,_ he thought with a dark smile on his face. Roy fished out his phone, intent on calling someone, Riza or Maes, maybe Havoc, but his thumb paused over the speed dial. He didn't know why, but he was reluctant to let them know what kind of situation he was in. He didn't mind the fact that they'd laugh at him, but it was more the way Riza and Havoc had assumed that he was going off on some date that was scandalous enough for him to refer to it in code. He was going to show them that he could do things by himself, he could resist temptation and even get rid of it with ease.

Roy put his phone back into his pocket, frowning slightly. He could do this, this was his _game._ No one could play people like he could.

He set his shoulders, then headed back out to the table. Miranda flashed a sweet smile at him, and he responded with his own charming grin. This was going to be a long night.

Over dinner, he refrained from outright _flirting_ with Miranda, but was definitely a little more friendly than he had been before. But he couldn't feel the attraction that he had admittedly felt earlier, only contempt. Did they really think this would work, or were they just that _desperate_?

He and Miranda had agreed that they'd work out the details after finishing dinner, so Roy had to work through two more courses of Miranda's flirting. It wasn't that big of a problem, but once she'd brushed her foot against his leg, he felt the beginnings of anger swirl in his stomach. He did his best to hide it, and felt pretty convinced that she wouldn't be able to guess that anything was wrong.

When they finally started talking about the fundraiser, she backed off a little, which Roy was only thankful for. Miranda impressed him with her ability to focus when there was work to be had, and made a few important points as they talked, always writing in a notebook she had pulled from somewhere.

"Hey, why don't we continue this at my house?" she asked after a pause, running a hand through her hair. "I've got a more in-depth plan there, plus some pictures for decorations. I would have brought them with me, but I didn't want to drag along an entire portfolio," she laughed, and Roy found himself nodding and calling for a check before he even realized it.

The uneasy fist in his stomach tightened a little as he stood up, but he figured that he'd done good enough already. If he could manage this woman practically flinging her body at him, he could handle going to her _house..._probably.

Before he knew it, he was opening the car door for her and then climbing into the driver's seat. The entire time, he felt the hard look Riza would give him the next day, full of disbelief and even disgust.

_This is probably an incredibly idiotic idea,_ Roy thought, nodding at Miranda as she made small talk.

"So, where's your house?" he asked, and she pointed in the direction, giving him the street name.

"My parents are gone for the weekend at some conference. It's just me, all by my lonesome over there. Thankfully I'm at school all day so I don't really notice," she said, and Roy raised his eyebrows, realizing she was one of the kids that didn't live in the dorms, but in their actual houses, like Riza.

_Riza._ Every few seconds, she would pop into his head and make him feel even worse. Why was he even doing this? What was the purpose of walking into a trap, eyes open? What did he think he'd do once he got to her house, because it was _very_ clear what Miranda wanted to happen there.

...Was it worth damaging his relationship with Riza even more, playing this awful, awful game?

"No," he whispered, and Miranda turned to him.

"What was that?"

"I'm sorry Miranda, but I can't go into your house."

"What?" Miranda looked confused and slightly panicked, and the more he thought about his situation, the angrier he became. "But, what about the fundraiser - I have things I want to show you!"

_I bet, _he thought darkly and he shook his head.

"It's just not going to work. I'm not going to let myself be played like this."

"What do you - I don't know what you mean."

"Drop the act," he said coldly, and Miranda furrowed her brows. "I know what you're doing, and I'm not going to let you do it. I'm done with this game."

There he went, slipping so easily into that cold, condescending persona he used whenever he was dumping a girl. How many times over the last couple of years had he done this, suddenly becoming bored with a girl and cutting her loose with all the tender delicacy of a decapitation. Roy would look at her so honestly and say he was done, and then open up his harsher tools to make her let go. The secrets she'd told him, shreds of her own short comings along with a splash of derision as he asked if she'd _really_ thought something so cheap, so haphazard and questionable would last.

"Roy, but you...don't act so innocent!" Miranda snapped, and he stared at her, disgusted she'd try to blame him for everything. "You lead me on so much it was _ridiculous_, and now you're going to pretend that _I'm_ the bad guy?"

"I didn't do anything but make small talk and try to get work done, Miranda. You're the one who flounced about in a miniskirt and makeup."

She shut her mouth, clearly too outraged to speak. When she did regain her words, they were like ice.

"Take me home."

"No," he said, and she stared at him. Roy was now so angry that his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, but he tried to keep himself in check. It was just the assumption that he'd be so _ignorant,_ so sleazy to have let this work that pushed him over the edge. Did everyone think of him this way, or was the Key Club that willing to think so little of him?

Roy pulled over to the curb, knowing that if he let Miranda stick around any longer, someone was going to get hurt.

"Get out. I'm not going to treat you like a lady when you're a conniving..." He cut himself off, turning his head away. "Just...get out Miranda."

"I can't _believe_ this!" she snapped, and he knew that tone in her voice. A lot of girls had it, that shrieky indignation only came when they were embarrassed and on the brink of tears. She glared at him as she climbed out of his car, but his expression stayed blank, for the most.

"Neither can I. But don't worry, it's only a couple of blocks at the most, and you girls_ love_ toning your legs. Now, don't try this stunt again, alright? It is cheap and disgusting. Tell Trevor and Blake that if they want to get somewhere, seduction isn't the way to do it."

"Oh, like you can talk," Miranda scoffed, slamming the door. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"Trust me, Miranda, I have _never_ tried something like this."

Roy pulled away, listening to Miranda's screams. He took a deep breath, trying to forget his anger but it kept mounting and mounting until he was speeding along the highway. Why did this suddenly _bother_ him so much? He knew what people thought of him, and he'd always told himself that it didn't matter, he'd just prove them wrong. But people were just _determined_ to think the worst of him, even when he was trying _so_ _hard._

_"Dammit!" _he yelled, slamming a fist on the steering wheel.

A glance at the speedometer reminded him that he need to calm himself down, before this all turned into a terrible case of road rage and a really big bill from the hospital. He pulled off to the side of the road and grabbed his phone from his pocket. Roy stabbed the number for Riza's speed dial, listening to it ring. His heart was pounding, and he knew this kind of anger. It usually went along with matches, an old building and a keg of kerosene.

"Hello, Roy? Is your meeting over?"

He stayed silent, working his jaw until he could get the words to speak. His silence obviously worried Riza, as she asked "Roy? Hello, Roy? What's wrong?"

There was a pause, and the quality of her voice changed.

"Roy, this better not be an accidental call. If you're actually rolling around in bed with Miranda and you somehow managed to ring my number, you are so _dea-"_

"No Riza, it's not that."

Riza's threat was silenced by his voice, and he knew how the anger on her face would instantly morph into worry and embarrassment. Under the circumstances, he would have been even more outraged by her assumption, but then again, it _had_ happened before, much to both of their mortification.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily into the phone. It was better for him to think about her and what she was doing. She was probably sitting in her living room, against the couch maybe, or even laying down on the floor, Black Hayate laying beside her. The lights would be off because she_ swore_ things were more decent, more innocent in the dark, and her hair wouldn't be in its usual clip. Riza's face would be soft with worry, and her brows would be furrowed slightly, making her face look less mature and more like the sixteen year old she really was.

"That...that _whore,_ she just tried to-"

"Roy," Riza said reproachfully, and he took another breath, wanting to start screaming every foul thing he'd thought that night into the phone. "Just...tell me what happened, as calm as possible."

"It was a set up," he began, spitting the words into the receiver but not littering the explanation with the worst adjectives he could think of. "Everything tonight was a lie! The Key Club thought they could be slick and send Miranda to _seduce_ me so they could get a little farther ahead in life, steal all of those references I've made for myself. So she _sashayed_ in there, with all that lipstick and long hair and a minidress and thought I wouldn't _realize_ what she was doing!"

"Gosh...Roy, I'm sorry," she said softly, and he could hear the remorse in her voice, probably from assuming the worst from him. "What...what happened then?"

"I tried to ignore it, got some work done, but then we left the restaurant and she had 'stuff she wanted to show me at her house', probably something like lacey underwear and a condom," he scoffed, earning a sound of disgust from Riza.

"Roy, please. Too much."

"Right," he said after a pause. "Sorry. But I...I couldn't do it anymore, Riza," he admitted, voice breaking as his anger ebbed, leaving him so tired he couldn't _think._

"I was going to just drop her off at her door, but Riza, I couldn't stand sitting there, letting her act like I was some sleazy _idiot. _So I...I made her walk home."

"_What? _Roy, did you seriously make her walk home from the_ restaurant?"_

_"No,_" he sighed, cracking a reluctant smile at the thought of the telling off she was about to give him if he didn't explain right away. "We got a block or so from her house, and I...I lost it, Riza. If I had to deal with her..." He stopped short, not wanting to describe what Miranda had done, not to Riza.

"...Did it ever cross your mind, actually going into her house and...you know..._"_ Riza trailed off, obviously just as reluctant about talking about the whole thing as he was.

"No," he laughed, then corrected himself. "Okay, yes, I did think about it _once. _She, uhm, well. I thought about it. But then...I thought about what you'd do to me if I messed up again and worked through it."

There was a pause, just one long stretch of him sitting there in the dark of his car, hand against his forehead while he elbow was propped against the steering wheel. Roy listened to both of them breathe into their cell phones, thinking, thinking, thinking. What was running through her mind? Did she realize just how often she'd been on his mind tonight? Did she know just how often she'd been on his mind every _day?_ Did she have any idea as to how _confused_ he was when it came to her?

"Roy, are you alright?" she asked, and he blinked in surprise.

"Uhm, yeah, I...guess? You didn't just miss the last couple of minutes where I was flamingly angry, did you?"

"No, idiot, I didn't, but...you've just seemed like you've...been dealing with a lot."

Roy narrowed his eyes, feeling something was amiss. There had been something in her voice...something hidden. It had been there for a while now, and Roy hated hearing her pick out her words so carefully to keep whatever it was from him. Did she not trust him, or was it something so important and secretive that she _couldn't_ tell him?

"I'm fine, Riza. A little tired, but who isn't these days? What...what about you?"

"I'm good, really. Like you said, there's just been so much to do. It...really wears a person out."

It really was amazing, how two people could lie so blatantly to each other and not be called out on it.

"Roy, I...I just want you to know...I'm proud of you. You've done a lot, you've come _so far..._and you don't get a word of praise."

He blinked in surprise, never having expected this. This was something new for them. They never _spoke_ or _touched_ or did anything that people would conventionally do to show support or a special bond, other than spending pretty much every available second of their day together, but now...it seemed like all of the rules were being broken, just because they felt like it. Now that Roy thought about it, a lot of their quiet little laws had been torn apart for seemingly no reason.

"I...thank you, Riza. I just...I don't know what I'm supposed to do sometimes, you know? And I can't keep going on, pretending to have all the answers when I don't. Not when I have so much resting on my shoulders."

A black little laugh escaped his lips, because this is what adults were supposed to say, important people with big jobs and important roles and hundreds of lives depending on their tiny little decisions. These weren't the words of a seventeen year old whose only worries were passing tests and being popular and performing well on the trumpet.

"Don't worry...we're gonna make it. Trust me."

He nodded, even though she couldn't see him, and wanted to say something back, something marvelous that would be able to assure her the way she had him. But what did she need assuring over? Riza could handle all of her problems, so much so that she had time left over to deal with _his._

_When did things become so lopsided?_ he thought, then realized that they'd always been that way. Right from the beginning, Riza had always been doing more than him, and yet he got all the credit.

"Thank you, Riza," he repeated, and this time he really meant it, for every single little thing she'd done for him. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Roy paused, his mouth open as if it knew exactly what he wanted to say next.

_I'm nothing without you, I need you Riza, you're everything to me. More than a friend, more than anything I've ever had and I need you to know how much I want to just..._

The moment dragged on, and the words he longed to speak stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him. Riza was silent as well, and he was sure it wasn't the waiting kind of silence, it was the thinking kind. What was she going to say? A part of Roy _needed_ her to speak, and yet the fear of her saying something awful, something condemning him to the friend-zone for the rest of eternity was too great for him to give her any more time to begin.

"Riza," he began, and for one tiny, heart leaping and stomach churning moment, he thought he'd say what he'd felt so compelled to utter, but then he was thanking her. "Thanks for taking the time to listen. It's, uh, pretty late for a phone call, and you were probably doing something important."

"No," she said, voice sounding falsely light. "I was just reading for fun. And you know it's alright for you to call at any time. It's always important."

"Even that time when I called you past midnight, completely drunk and saying I'd just bought a carful of flowers?"

"Yes, Roy, even then," she said, the edges of a laugh in her voice. He paused, feeling the chance to admit how he was feeling again, but Riza was saying "Well, you seem to have recovered now, and I should actually be getting to bed. See you tomorrow, Roy."

"Good bye, Riza," Roy said, and then he made a split second decision, grabbing up his breath and trying to spit it out before she hung up.

"Wait, Riza, _Ijustwanttotellyou-_"

But all he heard was dial tone, and Roy heard all that extra breath slip out of him, though it felt it was every hope he'd had about her. He sat there a moment, resting his head on the steering wheel, feeling crushed. Then he straightened, telling himself not to be stupid. He'd probably have other chances to say...whatever it had been that he'd wanted to say. Roy had the distinct feeling that had he caught Riza in time, he would have frozen, had no idea what he'd say next and then waffled his way out of saying anything at all.

"Sometimes, Roy," he told himself, pulling away from the side of the road and back onto the highway, speeding away from all of that confusion and mess called emotion, "you really are a pathetic person."

_**AN fffffff ENOUGH OF THE ROYAI DRAMA FOR NOW. I promise that we're going to swing back to Edward and Winry, and even maybe even get some positive development! I'm tired of slogging through their grudges XD**_

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<br>Toccata & Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
>Breakdown - Jack Johnson<br>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven  
>Sonata K. 545, Mo. 1 - Mozart<br>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin  
>Valse op. 69 'L'adieu - Chopin<br>Why Georgia, Why - John Mayer  
>I Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<br>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones  
>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<br>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum  
>The Tower - Vienna Teng<br>Polonaise in G Minor - Chopin  
>Raincheck - Art Farmer<br>Waterfall - Jon Schmidt  
>Give Me the Simple Life - Jamie Cullum<br>Still Love - Holly Brook  
>Familiar Taste of Poison - Halestorm<br>Rilassamento - Gianni Pavesi  
>Hope - Royal Tailor<br>The Soldier - PJ Harvey & John Parish  
>You Will - Lia Ices<br>__**What Am I To You? - Norah Jones  
>Innocent - Taylor Swift<br>Frontin' - Jamie Cullum  
>The Soldier - PJ Harvey &amp; Tom Parish<br>Oh Land - Lean**_


	14. Dissonance No 2

_**AN oh my gosh it's almost two in the morning what am i even doing. ANYWAYS. This chapter for your viewing pleasure! (wut) I've been wanting to just write and write and write and WRITE for this story, but I haven't, for some reason. Still, quickish update here, just over a week. Not bad, not bad at all!**_

_**And thank you for, like, the bizillionth time to everyone who commented on the story and sent in songs and all that jazz! I WANT TO HUG YOU INTO ITTY BITTY BITS.  
><strong>_

The next few days for Winry weren't fun, as she spent almost every second steeped in anxiety over what would happen when she next met Edward, including quite a bit of the time she should be using for sleep. Of course, she wasn't expecting something explosive like a shouting match or wild accusations slung about, but she wasn't sure if she'd be able to stand looking in the face of someone who so clearly hated her. How else could she describe his actions towards her, acting awful towards her in lessons, snarling at her for looking at his automail and then saying awful things about her behind her back?

Another reason she was so worried was that Winry wasn't sure how she herself would respond. Would she let it all loose and let him know just what she thought of him, or would she burst into tears, or just walk out, unable to say a word? All of those options were highly embarrassing, and Winry just preferred the idea of skipping her lesson that day altogether.

_But then...he'll probably come hunt me down and tell me off,_ she thought glumly, tugging at the strap on her bag as she entered the library. Her lesson was in just over an hour, and in the meantime she planned to get some of her Algebra II homework done. _If_ she could get herself to focus.

She climbed up to the second level, dropped her bag on the table and then just sat, staring at her books as if that would get anything done. After a minute or so of this, she reluctantly pulled out her textbook and binder, flipped through the pages and began working. Winry had just set in on her ninth problem when she frowned, consulted her notes, then stared at the page.

She had no idea how to do this.

Winry chewed on her cheek, read through the problem again, then ran the normal procedure for when she couldn't figure something out. Check the notes from class, the notes from the textbook, check the answers in the back of the book to see if she could work it out, take a stab at it with one of the formulas she had learned, stare at the page some more, read the problem slowly aloud and then try another formula.

After a couple of minutes, she ended up on the final and most hopeless step; staring at the page, hair clenched in her hands as she felt a mounting panic in her chest.

"Hey Winry, what's up? You look a little..."

Winry looked up to see Rose, perky as ever as she bounced over to where Winry sat. The older girl took in Winry's appearance, the bags under her eyes, messed up hair that was being repeatedly tugged as if that would give her a lightning bolt of inspiration and the general wildness about her eyes.

"...frazzled," she finished, gingerly sitting down across from her.

"Oh, hi Rose," she said, sounding dismal even to herself. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Better than you, I'm guessing. What are you working on? Math?" Rose peeked over at her textbook, and Winry nodded.

"I just...I have no idea what to do. I tried skipping this set of problems, but the next batch don't make much sense either, and then the one after that is just an expanded version of the problems I'm on!" Winry sounded like she was on the edge of a breakdown, which she heartily blamed Edward. If he hadn't caused all this trouble, she wouldn't have all that extra stress and probably would have been able to get her work done.

"You try talking to your teacher? I would offer some help, but I just barely managed to struggle through my own math classes. History and Social Studies were more my thing."

"He's not here today, and I don't want to bother him with a truckload of problems tomorrow morning."

"Then why don't you ask Ed?" Rose asked, and Winry stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out if that had been a joke, if she had been serious, or if Winry's tired brain had just quit working all together and was throwing nonsense out to be interpreted. Then Rose sighed, nodding slightly as she said "Oh, right, you two are...at odds. Shame, though. He's a whiz at that, math and science, those are his thing."

"I'm not asking him."

"I didn't say you had to, it was just a suggestion!" Rose said, raising her hands defensively. "I just figured that after your lesson you could...ask."

Winry gave one dark laugh, shaking her head.

"I'm not doing it. There is _no way_ he'll just...let me ask for help."

"You don't know that," Rose said, but then sighed. "If you need help, then I guess you could ask Roy. He's really great with that kind of thing, too."

"Alright, it's a thought. Where is he?"

"Let's see...I think he'd be in the advanced student lounge. They'll probably let you in there if you say you're going for a tutor session with him or something."

"And where's the advanced student lounge?"

"Second floor of the main building, go outside on the left, cross the patio and then up the flight of stairs tucked into the back wall." Winry raised her eyebrows, figuring that the only the advanced students got the lounge because it was in such an inconvenient place.

"You're sure he'll be there?"

"Pretty sure. There aren't any meetings, and he doesn't have a core class right now. If you see Hughes or Havoc or one of them on your way, you can ask them. They'll know for sure."

"...Okay," Winry sighed, figuring that something as better than nothing. She stood up and packed her bag, wondering what kind of a teacher Roy was, or if he'd even consent to helping her. He'd been playing the part of an excellent host ever since she'd gotten there, yet she couldn't help but wonder if that would disappear as soon as she actually needed help.

"Well, thanks for the help Rose. See you later?"

"Yep! The other girls in the dorm and I are considering a movie tonight. Second floor waiting area if you're interested, pajamas required."

"Alright," she laughed, giving a tired wave as she headed to the stairs.

Winry trekked across the school grounds to the main building, shivering slightly with cold. There was no doubt that they were headed into the fall now, the few deciduous trees on the grounds were already streaked gold and red and the bite of frost was evident in the evening air. Despite it not even being five yet, the sun was low in the sky, promising an early sunset.

Picking up the pace, Winry cut through one of the gardens to a side door, yanking it open with a sigh as she felt the rush of warm air hit her. Winry stepped inside gratefully, wondering why on earth she hadn't worn her warmer winter uniform that day.

_Not making that mistake again, _she thought. She had gotten so into the habit of wearing the summer uniform that she hadn't even thought about what the weather would be like that day. That wouldn't have happened back in Resembool, she thought as she climbed a staircase, trying to smother a pang of homesickness. If she had still been in the country, Winry would have worn jeans, thick socks, a sweater and her winter coat, maybe even a scarf for good measure.

Winry slowed when she reached the second floor. Rose had said a side door on the left, but there were _several_ side doors on the left. Sighing, she picked the closest one and ran quickly to the staircase on the far side of the patio. She hiked up it, pausing when she heard the echos of some brass instrument, stretched by the wind. Curious, she edged closer, straining to make out a proper tune.

It wasn't unusual for people to practice outside of the practice rooms, halls, empty classrooms, the foyer of dorms and even behind buildings were all likely to have at least one student warming up, putting together their instrument or playing an actual piece. Still, it seemed a little peculiar to play in a lounge where other people could easily be disturbed.

She reached the top of the stairs, a door blocking her way. She took hold of the handle, hoped it wasn't locked and pushed it open. What met her eyes wasn't particularly abnormal, but it still sent a shiver up her spine.

Behind the door was a roof where a boy was playing the French horn. He was tall and had long black hair pulled into a ponytail, and Winry felt herself transfixed. The song he was playing was low and lovely, and when coupled with the pinkening sky and gentle breeze that played with the boy's clothes and hair, the scene should have been enchanting. But as his song ended and the boy turned around to face her, Winry felt a dark thrill in her stomach.

"Look at that, I've gained an audience," he said mildly, snapping Winry out of her reverie.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you, I was just looking for the advanced student's lounge."

"Not a problem. The lounge is up the next staircase on this side, sorry. What are you headed there for?"

The boy's smile was easy and polite, but his eyes were cold. There was something unsettling about him in general, though she couldn't say what. Maybe it was the way he was just standing up here like it was the middle of July, with his rolled up shirt sleeves and lack of blazer or coat of any kind. Or maybe, it was just the way he acted, almost too smooth and slithery, like a snake.

He walked towards Winry, and she noticed a silver pocket watch matching Edward and Roy's jostling on his belt loop. This made Winry decide to stuff away her apprehension and ask for his help. If he knew where Roy was, she might be spared from a trip back out into the cold only to find out that he wasn't there.

"I'm looking for Roy," she said, shivering a little. "I was wondering if he could help me with my math."

"He's not in there, sorry. He's actually in the middle of a private trumpet lesson."

"Oh...okay. Well, uhm, thank you." He nodded, then stuck out a hand.

"Zolf J. Kimblee, fourth year. And, as you can see, I play the French Horn," he said, gesturing at the instrument held in his hand once Winry let his empty one go. She had noticed by now that when people where introducing themselves here, they tacked on their year and instrument like they were members of the military, stating their rank.

_Wonder if I'll be like that by my third year,_ she wondered absently, not taking her eyes off of Kimblee. Then she felt the vaguest thrill of panic at the thought of being away from home for so long. It hadn't really sunk in yet, her having to stay in St. Bradley's until she graduated, even though she had been there for almost a month. It felt like she as on vacation, at some music camp and soon she'd be headed back home soon.

_Shut up,_ she told herself angrily, then cleared her throat as she introduced herself in a similar manner as Kimblee. He nodded at her as she turned back to the door, eager to get out of the wind and away from this ominous boy.

"See you again soon," he called, and she managed to flash a noncommittal smile over her shoulder as she hot stepped it out of there. Winry sighed once she got back into the main building, dragging her feet down the stairs. Her watch said that she had about half an hour left before her lesson with Edward, and all she could think about was the time she'd _wasted._

Winry trudged back into the library, feeling cold and irritated and really, _really_ anxious about her lesson in twenty-five minutes. She couldn't get that outraged look Edward had shot her, outrage covering fear and shock.

Alphonse was sitting at a table not far from her, and when he looked up he waved.

"Wanna sit down?" he asked, and she nodded, dropping into a chair feeling absolutely exhausted and miserable. She glanced at Al, who was looking at her with worry.

"Are you alright?"

Winry leveled him with a half-lidded glare and grunted '_No,'_ which made Al lean back in his seat.

"Oh. Anything I can do to help?"

"Unless you know a great math tutor-_that's_ _**not **your brother-_no."

"Oh," he repeated, then was quiet for a second. "Well, there are a few people you could ask, like Roy-"

"He's in a trumpet lesson."

"Oh." Al paused, then said, sounding a little bashful, "I could always give it a shot. I mean, I've never really helped anyone with their homework before, but hey, why not?"

Winry sat up, feeling a little guilty for being so short with Alphonse when he was doing everything in his power to help her. She examined his open, slightly embarrassed face, and asked "You know how to do Algebra II stuff?"

"Uhm, yeah. That's my math class."

"Really?" she asked, trying not to let that affect her already damaged ego. He was only a year younger than her, after all, and she shouldn't be surprised that he was in an advanced class. From what she'd seen and heard, Al was a pretty smart kid.

"Yeah. I took Geometry when I was in eighth grade. So, if you want..."

"Oh, yeah, why not?" she asked, shocked into a lighter mood. She fished out her textbook and binder, opening them up to the correct pages. Al glanced over them and then asked "So, what're you having problems with?"

She explained, and in a few short seconds, Al was off, sorting the problems all out like they weren't absolutely mind boggling. She stared as he worked, it was like he had a cookie cutter in his hand and all he had to do was press down on the problem to get his perfect little answer. In a few minutes, it was like he had handed the cookie cutter to Winry, and then she was finishing problem after problem, almost laughing with delight.

"Wow...oh my gosh, wow, thank you Al!" she said, putting her pencil down. "I thought I was going to have a nervous break down there for a while."

"No problem, here to help," he said, smiling big. "So, you find a costume for Halloween yet?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, I went with Rose on the weekend. It's...well, I'm not really sure what it is. Either a pumpkin or a tomato, depends on the light." She shrugged with a '_what-can-you-do?'_ look on her face, making him laugh.

"What about you?"

"Me? Oh, well, it's going to be a surprise. I'm afraid people are going to mock me if they don't see it first." Winry nodded with understanding, and then asked "So, are you going to go to the party, then? Or are you going to be going around town?"

"I'm going to the party. I was going to stay with Ed, but he insisted I go have fun." She nodded again, only this time, her face was much darker.

"Right, he said he'd be staying home, didn't he?"

"Yeah...Winry, I know it's not really my business, but...is everything..._okay_ with you two?"

"Hm?"

"I just...I wanna know if you're okay with learning from him. I mean, everyone can see you two don't like each other, but if it's really bad you don't have to stay with him. You can be switched to another teacher at any time."

"Oh," she said, pausing. It was a thought, one that Winry had no qualms in considering, but...she didn't want to switch out. It felt like cheating, for one, and for two...she was interested in Edward, despite the fact that he absolutely incensed her left, right and center, to say the least. But she didn't want just..._give up._

"No, thanks Al, but...I can do this. Your brother is just some pig headed idiot, and I've dealt with those before." She gave Al a big smile, then glanced at the clock set in a wall across the room.

"Oh gosh, my lesson! I've gotta go, thanks for helping me, Al!" she said, grabbing up her books and stuffing them into her book bag. Al grinned and nodded, waving her out of the library.

"Alright, no problem! And, hey, don't let Ed get to you! He doesn't mean most of what he says, just remember that!"

"Will do!" she called over her shoulder and bursting out into the cold outside air. She sprinted to the music hallway, banging through the doors and skidding to a halt in front of the practice room. She glanced at her watch, taking a few seconds to gasp for breath before entering the practice room.

Edward glanced up at her, taking in her windblown hair and clothes, red face and general disarray. He nodded at her stiffly like this was her usual state and then looked back at his notebook.

She walked behind him to the piano bench, sitting down as she tried to keep from panting. Wordlessly, she pulled out her music books and handed them to Edward. While he was sorting through them, she pulled her hair back into the desire ponytail. He began the lesson with some scales and chords, then moved into the Clementi sonata. It wasn't as bad as she'd thought it'd be; he was polite, even if in a cool way, and he didn't snap at her like he had in previous lessons. That didn't stop Winry from imagining that he kept suppressing his irritation and disgust with her whenever she got something wrong.

"No, no, stop," he said, waving her hands away from the keyboard. They had finished the sonata and started on _Polonaise,_ and Winry instantly began struggling with a section. Edward had had enough of her struggling through three measures worth of music and getting the rhythms wrong, and finally was taking things quite literally into his own hands.

"You're doing it wrong, don't hesitate! They're not a dotted eighth note and sixteenth note, they're just two eighth notes!" he said, sounding exasperated. He set his hands on the keys, then ran through the measures, Winry watching and listening intently. He went through it again, and amidst the quick melody Winry heard a soft metallic little _ping!_ She frowned, watching his hands a little more closely, feeling her stomach drop. That hadn't been...had it?

Edward seemed to not have noticed and pulled his hands back, setting them definitively on his lap.

"See? Now you do it."

"Okay," she murmured, setting her hands back on the piano. She turned to him suddenly, unable to get the noise out of her head. Had she imagined it, or was it just nothing that she was blowing out of proportion?

"Could you go over it again, please?" she asked, noticing the slightest edge of reluctance in the boy's face before he frowned at her.

"Why? I did it twice, you've just got to play it now."

"Play it again," she ordered, forgetting that this was her lesson and she had absolutely no right telling an advanced piano student what to do when it came to his instrument. Edward looked flustered now though, and Winry was absolutely sure that the small noise she had heard had come from his automail. He scowled at her, trying to put on a show to make her back down, but she just set her jaw and glared right back, until he sighed with irritation.

"Why does it matter?" he demanded, but she just narrowed her eye.

"I want to see something. Do just a scale if it makes you happy, but _play it._"

Edward set his left hand on the keys, but Winry shot him a look. He pursed his lips, then hesitantly settled his right hand a few keys higher. Edward went through a D major scale, just for an octave, but Winry watched his fingers like her life depended on it. They all seemed fine until he reached the top of the scale, when he changed the fingering.

Edward was an absolute stickler for using the proper fingerings on a song, this she had learned right away. Which was why it was so bizarre seeing him suddenly change things entirely. What he was _supposed_ to do was to finish the last five ascending notes by pressing down each finger, one at a time starting with his thumb, but instead of using his pinky on the high C, he used his thumb as if he were to continue the scale for another octave. Winry stared at his hand, doubtless of the fact that that there was something wrong with his pinky. He finished the scale and looked grumpy and defiant, saying "Well?" like she had just asked him to do the stupidest thing in the world.

"Give me your hand," she said, and he paused.

"Why?"

"Because I need to look at it!" Winry said shortly, and Edward tucked his automail fist against his chest, looking worried.

"What for?"

"I need to know what's wrong with it, and if possible, fix it!"

Edward paused again as if weighing his options. She glared at him until finally he slowly extended his arm, holding his fist out to her.

"May I?" she asked, gesturing at his glove, and he snatched it off, flushing slightly. He grumbled under his breath as she flattened his palm, but didn't resist otherwise.

Winry could fully appreciate the awkwardness and peculiarity of the situation as she scoured his open hand for hints as to what was wrong. Only a few days ago he had snapped at her like a feral dog whose tail had just been trod on, and that was just because she had stolen a _glimpse_ of his automail. Now here she was, forcing him to show it to her, not only that, let her examine and maybe even try to _fix_ it.

She pursed her lips then ducked down for her bag, earning a wary "What are you doing?" from Edward. She came back up with a small screw driver, adjusted her seat so that she was practically straddling the piano bench as she pushed up his sleeve to reveal his forearm. Winry undid the screws keeping the main plate down and pulled it away, ignoring the quiet inhale from Edward.

The inside of his automail was, in a word, _odd._ It didn't look like anything she'd seen before, but more like it had been cobbled together, bits and pieces tacked on here and there over time. The original structure was familiar, though she didn't know why and she wasn't there to ogle over his arm. It was clear that Edward didn't like this one bit, and she wanted to make this fast before their relationship soured even more.

It shocked Winry to see just how damaged Edward's arm was, wires in the wrong place and pieces held together in ways that made her want to wince. The outside was no better. The plate she had in her lap was dented and scratched, and his arm in general looked dull and battered. What Winry really wanted to do was first start sobbing at seeing such high end automail treated like a twenty year old pick up truck, then launch into a lecture about how he needed to take better care of his automail. Then she wanted to rail about his lack of a mechanic, or, even worse, the one he had now. She just couldn't imagine someone so _negligent_ being paid to keep someone's limbs held together, nor could she imagine someone so incompetent as to let this slide. Edward, she had noticed, was a rather prideful person, including in how he looked. It must have hurt him, seeing his arm practically _decaying_ before his eyes.

She bit her lip to keep from letting any of that pour out of her mouth, though she couldn't help but give him a disapproving glance. The twisted expression on his face showed that he felt the same as she did, as well as embarrassed that she had to see him like this.

Winry quickly found what was wrong with his pinky (a screw had come loose and hit a nerve that was snarled up with a wire for his heating plate, causing both to malfunction) and fixed it. The whole thing took less than five minutes, but it seemed like so much longer. They were entirely silent through it all, like they were holding their breath, waiting for the other person to say something. When Winry fit the plate back into place, she actually found it hard to screw it back on. She wanted to pour over this boy's arm for forever, to analyze it and talk about it with her grandmother and ask him how he'd lost his arm in the first place, but of course she couldn't for a number of reasons, like how he didn't even want her to know about his automail, or maybe because her grandmother was dead.

_Oh look, I'm being cheerful again,_ Winry thought blackly, pulling her hands away and allowing Edward to push down his sleeve and pull on his glove. She had noticed that when she began revealing the mechanics, he had carefully angled himself so as to keep it out of the window's line of sight, and periodically checked to make sure that no one was gawking at them. She normally would have reprimanded him for moving so much, but the tension had been so high she hadn't wanted to make him snap again.

"I fixed your pinky, though there's...a lot that still needs to be done. I noticed that your heating plates were out of whack, as well as a few other things. Are you experiencing any sharp pains randomly, starting around here and going up your arm?" she asked, drawing an imaginary circle around her palm. Edward blinked in surprise and nodded, saying "Yeah, I am."

"How often?"

"Once...maybe twice a day," he said, though it really sounded more like a question. Winry nodded, and for a moment she managed to forget that this was Edward Elric, the rude piano prodigy forced to teach her how to play an the piano and really just some boy who had made an appointment with her back in Resembool.

"Okay, that's not good, for one," she told him, and he gave a half smile that said '_Oh, really?'_ "That can seriously mess up your nervous system so that we'll have to rewire the whole thing, but it can also affect the real nerves in the rest of your body. There's a lot of miscellaneous stuff that needs to be fixed, the parts are wrong or outdated here or there, and you also could use a change on your palm and a tune up on the pressure gauges on your fingertips," she finished, making him raise his eyebrows. Winry leaned back, shoulders slumping self consciously, but he didn't seem to be judging her negatively for her knowledge on automail. He nodded after a moment, flexing his fingers as if without realizing it.

"Alright...okay, uhm, thanks. I'll...I'll be sure to tell my mechanic when I see him again."

Winry nodded, pressing her lips together to keep from saying something nasty about his mechanic. She opened her mouth to say something else, then struggled for the words. The thought of sending Edward back into the arms of that man was absolutely maddening, until she blurted "You could always come by the shop to have me work on it for real."

Edward looked up sharply, brows furrowed, though not in anger. She back tracked a little, holding up her hands.

"I mean, if you want, you could always...coming by the place I work, it's not far, and I could...you know, give you a proper fix up." He nodded after a moment, eyes drifting away from her face as he thought about her suggestion.

"Where is it?" he asked after a pause, and Winry tried to keep the surprise from dominating her face.

"Ah, Garfeil's Mechanics, it's about two blocks away, over on Pine Street, with a big sign." She waited, breath held as he slowly nodded, asking her hesitantly for a time he could come in. Winry told him her hours, unable to shake the surreal quality of it all. Edward gave her an awkward smile as he said "I...probably won't be able to come in before Halloween, but...I can just walk in at any time?"

"Yeah, just ask for me. I don't have any appointments, so there should be no problems."

Edward nodded again, then seemed to remember that they were in a piano lesson.

"Should we, uh, get back to it?"

"What?" she asked, blinking as she remembered where they were. "Oh, yeah, of course!"

Winry turned back to face the piano, which had been so patiently waiting as she had fixed his arm. She shook her head, trying to get herself to focus, but her brain was abuzz with what had just happened. This...this was an enormous step forward from where she'd been with Edward before! Even after her lesson had finished and he'd handed back her Black Notebook of Doom and they headed out, turning opposite ways with an awkward look between them, she couldn't believe that he had even let her _touch_ his automail, much less _fix _it.

_My world never ceases to amaze me,_ she thought, feeling a little bemused as she forced herself back out into the cold wind, a tiny laugh of surprise escaping her lips.

_**AN Can I just say it feels so, so good to have some positive development between Edward and Winry? I can take awkward compatibility over teeth-grinding, anxiety inducing grudge matches. And Winry get's to show off her automail prowess! That's always fun.**_

_**Oooooooh I just realized I kind of mislead you guys. I made it seem like we wouldn't be seeing Roy and Riza for a while, but this was all a lie OTL BUT I SWEAR, RIGHT HERE THAT THIS IS THE FOUNDATION FOR A LOVELY, LOVELY RELATIONSHIP AND YOU WILL BE PLEASED MUCHLY WHEN I FINALLY GET AROUND TO SHOWING YOU JUST WHAT I HAVE PLANNED. to make up for this, i will try to write the next few chapters as quickly as possible, m'kay?  
><strong>_

_**The playlist! I get a lot of feels from this thing, no joke. Not only is it about twice as long as I originally planned it to be (and it doesn't even have all of the songs yet!), I'm surprised by how many songs you guys have given me! It makes me really happy to see you care~ And I have a question; which song(s) are you favorites on here? I personally love**_** _'I Think, I Love' and 'Antebellum'. They are the perfect Royai songs ever XD_**

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<br>Toccata & Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
>Breakdown - Jack Johnson<br>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven  
>Sonata K. 545, Mo. 1 - Mozart<br>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin  
>Valse op. 69 'L'adieu - Chopin<br>Why Georgia, Why - John Mayer  
>I Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<br>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones  
>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<br>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum  
>The Tower - Vienna Teng<br>Polonaise in G Minor - Chopin  
>Raincheck - Art Farmer<br>Waterfall - Jon Schmidt  
>Give Me the Simple Life - Jamie Cullum<br>Still Love - Holly Brook  
>Familiar Taste of Poison - Halestorm<br>Rilassamento - Gianni Pavesi  
>Hope - Royal Tailor<br>The Soldier - PJ Harvey & John Parish  
>You Will - Lia Ices<br>What Am I To You? - Norah Jones  
>Innocent - Taylor Swift<br>Frontin' - Jamie Cullum  
>The Soldier - PJ Harvey &amp; Tom Parish<br>Oh Land - Lean  
><strong>Sonata in D Major for Two Pianos, K. 448 - Mozart<br>Something's Gotta Give - Sammy Davis, Jr.  
>The House That Built Me - Miranda Lambert<br>Waltz in a minor - Chopin  
>Prelude Op. 28 No. 4 - Chopin<strong>  
><em>


	15. A Kiss to Build a Dream On

**_AN What...what is this? Is this me updating when only a WEEK HAS PASSED? ohmygoshtheworldmustbeending. In all seriousness, though, it's felt like much longer, and yet I kept telling myself that I couldn't begin the chapter a day after I had just updated because then I'd be updating too fast. And then I realize that there are people updating three to four times a week, and then laugh and do nothing. BECAUSE WHO ACTUALLY WANTS QUICK UPDATES? I MEAN REALLY? OTL_**

For some unfathomable reason, the last few days for Roy had been more awkward and nerve wracking than waiting for the repercussions of his going to the party and getting roaringly drunk. After wracking his brains for an answer, he settled on some higher power that just loved to screw with him and his emotions. Or, maybe, on the off chance, it had something to do with growing attraction to Riza Hawkeye.

But that was just a slight possibility.

He honestly had no idea where it'd come from, this whole..._thing._ A few seconds ago, she'd just been Riza Hawkeye, his Lieutenant and one of his best friends. Their relationship had been complex, yes, but it had so easily fit under the label 'platonic', despite what everyone thought, and then...then it wasn't so easy. In a single eye blink, she'd gone off and become _Riza_, his pretty Lieutenant and regrettably just one of his best friends. Roy just couldn't explain it, how he felt. It was like his stomach was chock full of butterflies and she was always on his mind and he didn't think he'd be able to stand disappointing her any more than he already had. In short, Roy was experiencing symptoms that he had never come into contact with before, and had no idea how to combat them. It wasn't like being drunk, which you could fix before you got a hangover by chugging enough water to get water poisoning, or being sick, which could be countered by medicine and rest, this was..._persistent,_ it stuck with him no matter what he did.

It drove Roy nuts, because he just had no idea _how she did it._ When they'd first met back in their eighth grade culinary class, she had just been the daughter of Berthold Hawkeye, a genius that was responsible for the development and refining of the LED light bulb, among other illumination-oriented products. He had done his best to be friendly to her, but after five minutes, a wooden spoon brought down on his knuckles and one glare so cold it almost stopped his ego and easy small talk in its tracks, she made it _very_ clear she didn't want to even have to look at him. The snotty attitude hadn't improved when they'd been forced to work as a pair in class, especially when she found out that the majority of the things he attempted to cook were more or less coated in charcoal by the time he was finished. Rather than risk failing the class, she had forced him to take private cooking lessons which turned out to be much less enjoyable than he'd hoped.

After those, though, she had warmed up to him, probably because she saw that his soul was composed of more than atrociously bad habits. From then on, their friendship had grown until he confessed his lifelong goals to her, and she agreed to help.

_I guess when you look at it that way, it only makes sense that she'd end up being more than just a friend,_ he thought distractedly, then whacked himself in the head because for her to become 'something more', she need to actually know how he felt, much less want to comply.

"Whoa, easy Colonel. I know it's tough to remember some of the stuff you studied for the History test next period, but I don't think Grumman likes you enough to believe the excuse that you gave yourself a concussion."

Roy shot a glare at Havoc, not exactly appreciating his wit at the moment.

"Really though, what's up?" Maes asked, and Roy just shrugged. They may have been his best friends, but he wasn't about to spill his guts over this strange and rather embarrassing situation. To think, he, _Roy Mustang,_ was having serious girl problems. It was almost laughable, except it totally wasn't.

He slogged through the test and then the student council meeting where Rebecca, Maes and two other people fussed at everyone over details that had been left til the last minute. The Halloween dance was only a couple days away, and yet not all of the food had been ordered, several musical acts had fallen through and no one could really explain the pinata that had been ordered instead of three strings of decoration lights. Roy tried to block all of the noise out, as he'd done his job and more and didn't really need this extra stress on top of what he was already dealing with, but then Rebecca barked out his name. He snapped his head up, feeling a little lost at having missed the last ten minutes worth of conversation. She seemed to pick up on this, and frantically explained the situation.

"Yeah?" he asked, feeling a creep of dread.

"Can you come up with twenty minute's worth of games that don't require music?" she asked, sounding worn out. "_Somebody_ only hired a DJ that can come at seven-twenty, and we don't have enough acts to fill up the gap." One look at her eyes, wild from worry and hair frizzed from humidity and stress told him that he wouldn't be able to talk his way out.

"Uhhhhhhh, yeah, I guess," he said, relieved she wasn't asking him to do anything too difficult. All he really needed to do was steal all the games Havoc could think of and then swagger around the dance floor with a microphone making amusing commentary when the time came.

The rest of the day passed without much event, until finally he was in his AP English class. As he climbed the stairs up to the classroom, he felt like his stomach was left on the floor below. This was not only the last class for the day, but also the only one he had with Riza until Monday of the next week. All he could think about was how he'd act around her, even though he was confined to about five minutes worth of small talk and a few smirks and glances.

He dragged his feet into the classroom, immediately spotting her already seated at her desk, staring absently at a blank page on her notebook. She bounced the eraser on the page, not seeming to notice him drop into the seat next to her.

"Are you coming up with brilliant prose or considering becoming a percussionist? I can't tell."

"What? O-oh, I was just thinking," she said, looking around and blinking distractedly. Clearly, Roy wasn't the only person with things on his mind today.

"'Bout what?" he asked, and she shrugged, looking away from him and up at the board. Two prompts for what appeared to be an essay they were supposed to work on was written on the chalkboard, and he groaned.

"Just what I need, _more work,_" he said dismally, and she cracked a smile that he liked to think only he could produce.

Surprisingly, now that Riza was right there beside him, his jitters had lessened considerably. In fact, other than a few flutters when she gave an especially pretty smile, Roy felt fine. The sudden change was head spinning, but he was thankful that his head was clear enough to get to work on the essay that was assigned a few minutes later.

The period ended and they headed out, talking amiably even though he could tell there was something on her mind. Before he knew it, Roy was leaving the school grounds and crossing the street to Riza's house. She didn't comment on the fact that he was following her home, and if he didn't know better, he would have said that she was hiding a smile as she unlocked her door. Riza pushed it open for him, and he stepped inside, slipping off his shoes. She flipped on the light, and he walked over to the table, setting his bag down.

He really didn't know why he'd com there, much less gone inside. Roy had truly intended on leaving her when they'd reached the intersection on Fifth, but he'd just kept on going. Maybe it was because it had started to rain, and he'd get more soaked heading back than just waiting it out at her place, or maybe he'd gotten so caught up in talking with her that he'd just ended up on her front doorstep. He knew that he should probably be worried at how often he was 'just getting caught up in her', but Roy pushed that thought from his mind.

"Where's Black Hayate?" he asked, and Riza glanced over her shoulder.

"Oh, he's with my grandfather. He said that he'd take him for the weekend so I don't have to worry about a dog as well as the hassle of the dance."

"That was nice of him," Roy noted, and she shrugged.

Roy glanced at the stove, gave a few tight laughs, then grimaced at it, recalling his thoughts from earlier.

"I don't know if I should say that I have good memories at that stove or not."

"That's right," Riza said, hanging up her jacket. "You _did_ burn a lot of things there, didn't you? Geez, it took _two months_ for the burnt smell to fade, and that was even _after_ I took to keeping a fire extinguisher by the stove."

"I really scared you those first few times, didn't I?" Roy laughed, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it beside hers. "Ah, your face! That was the first time I'd ever seen you lose your cool. It's settled, there are definitely good memories associated with that kitchen."

She rolled her eyes, unpacking her book bag, and Roy sat at the table and opening his textbook, mind still on the girl sitting on the couch a few feet away from him.

Roy had had a lot of relationships (they couldn't be called affairs, right? Teens didn't _have_ affairs, they had flings, which he decided sounded infinitely more innocent.) over the years, but Riza...she had always been there. She'd seen him pissed, incredibly happy, drunk too many times to bear thinking about and in his all time low, and yet she hadn't gone screaming into the night. That was something, right? But not necessarily the something he wanted...

A little irritated, he started on his homework, Riza doing the same. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing how she brushed a strand from her face, and Roy had the sudden urge to run his hand through her hair.

_No, stop!_ he told himself, biting his cheek and stabbing his pen into his palm for good measure. _Riza is **not** interested in that!_

Of course she wasn't. Surely she would have acted if she was. Besides, if she'd taken Roy's lead, she would have dated the whole forsaken block by now. This thought did little to make him feel better, surprisingly.

Roy buried himself in his homework, which, thankfully, didn't allow for much thought about Riza or his past relationships. After he'd finished a good portion of the first draft of the English essay and a chunk of his Musical Pop World Culture assignment, he glanced up at the clock only to receive a shock when he saw it was already seven.

"I should get going..." he started, breaking the silence that had stretched between the two of them for a while now. Then Roy realized that the rain that had started a few hours ago was now a full fledged storm. He mumbled a curse, patting his pockets for his phone. "I'll have to call a cab," he murmured, then felt a hand on his arm. He blinked in surprise when he saw it was Riza - when had she gotten up from the couch and come to stand by him?

"No, Roy, don't waste your money. You said you'd catch a ride with Breda before Jean left to spend the night with his family, right? Breda's already done with his trombone lessons, and Jean's gone. In fact, you probably don't even have your room key."

Roy frowned, wondering how she'd known that he had left his key on his nightstand. But then, she probably wouldn't have proved her name true if she missed little details like that.

"Don't make anyone drive out in this storm, it's a nightmare. Stay here for the night."

Roy raised his eyebrows as his brain stuttered to a halt in surprised delight. He managed to get out a "_Really?_" that seemed convincing enough to him.

"Yeah. I mean, the couch isn't a king sized bed or anything, but it's not awful." He nodded, looking down at his textbooks to hide his slight disappointment. Of _course_ she wasn't about to let him sleep in the same bed as her, this was _Riza Hawkeye_ he was speaking to, she of all people would insist that they stay in separate rooms.

"Okay, then. You sure it's no bother?"

"None at all."

Roy thanked her, secretly wondering how on earth he was supposed to handle spending the night there, with her just a room away. Riza gave a small smile, and he realized she was still holding his arm, which was something he decided he liked.

"We've been friends for a while, now right?" he asked, his brain popping out the only thing he could think of that didn't crippling embarrassment or possibly a disgusted slap.

"Almost three years."

"Feels like forever," he laughed, running a hand through his hair.

"Well," she said, shrugging, "they only said time flies when you're having fun, and I wouldn't exactly say that plotting is _fun."_

"But it's not _all_ unenjoyable," he pointed out, then smirked. "Besides, it hasn't _all_ been plotting."

"Really," she breathed, and he was sure she leaned in, just the fraction of an inch. "What have you been doing all this time that I haven't, then?"

Her head was tipped up, and Roy could barely tear his eyes away from her brown ones. When he did, though, they got stuck on her mouth. Her lips were almost rose petal pink, and he really, _really_ wanted to know how they'd taste. Mint and lemons, something told him, peppermint and lemons, like the tea she liked to drink, though he had no idea what prompted the thought.

_No Roy, pull yourself together! Come on, come on, come **on,** just a little bit closer, holy **crap** she smells great - **no!** Don't do anything stupid, moron!_

Roy opened his mouth, struggling for an answer when talking with her wasn't exactly the thing he wanted to be doing at the moment.

"I've been... trying not to say something cheesy to you." Riza's eyebrows raised, and she cocked her head with surprise at his words.

"Like what?" she asked, and he leaned back against the table, a feeble attempt to get away from her and her delicious charm.

"Like asking...if you'd give me a kiss to build a dream on."

She stared at him, clearly trying to figure out if he was being serious or not, and he just shrugged as if to say_ 'Well, that's the truth'_ when on the inside he was anything but calm. He knew full well that he had probably just dug his own grave, but a part of him, a shockingly _large_ part, didn't even care. It was so _good_ to have finally said _something_ to even indicate what he felt, and if he could kiss her now, he'd be set for life.

Riza's eyes narrowed, but she was smiling, which was almost always a good sign. "Really?" she asked, and that was invitation enough for him.

"Yeah," he murmured, leaning in and kissing her, unable to hold himself back any longer. Riza gasped and froze, but as he kissed her again, one hand on her shoulder, the other hesitantly on her side, she relaxed, even..._kissed back._ Roy kissed her again and again and _again, _pressing down harder and clenching his hand in the back of her blouse.

He had been _dying_ for this, Roy was just starting to realize. Riza was the drink he'd been longing for, and now that he had her, he doubted he'd ever be able to stop.

Riza's arms were around his neck, one hand clenched in his hair. He kissed her more deeply, and her leg pressed up between his thighs, making Roy want her even more. He unclipped her hair, letting it swish around her shoulders and he ran his hand through it, drinking in every little detail about her.

Good _word,_ she was a fantastic kisser. He could hardly believe it, considering how little practice she'd had. Her hand was on his side, and she was pressing into him. He'd thought other girls had been devious little things, but this girl, Riza, it was almost too much.

Roy grabbed her, tugging her against him. He was sitting on the table now, and she was perched on his knee, just begging for him to kiss her jaw, her neck, her collar bone. Riza was panting, heart zipping back and forth against his chest, pushing his own heart back and forth as if worried it might stop. Her fingers were on his tie, tugging it loose, and when they caught on his collar, she was pulling a button free before he knew it. He could hardly believe what she was doing, this was proper Miss Riza Hawkeye, who had just insisted that they sleep in two totally different rooms from each other, and who sat in stony silence whenever she overheard someone talking about their romantic exploits and disapproved heartily at any excessive public displays of affection. The thought stayed in his mind for only a few seconds, however, as he couldn't be bothered to care about much more than her lips against his neck.

Roy pressed his mouth against hers, moaning and finally just ripping her shirt free from where it had been so neatly tucked into her skirt. He pulled her down so that they were both lying on the table, and she yelped a little, making him laugh. Riza had her hands pressed against this stomach, and he removed one of his own hands from her thigh to take hold of them, putting them down by his shirt hem. She didn't realize for a moment that he was having her undo his pants, but when she did, Riza squawked and jerked away. Roy followed her, sitting back up, absolutely desperate to make this last. He dragged his mouth along hers, enticing her to stay just a little bit longer. Riza hesitated, turning back into the kiss and resting her leg up by his side.

He groaned, excitement mounting as he bite her lip and grabbed roughly at her blouse, attempting to pull it up over her head.

Riza made an annoyed sound in her throat, a rough, sad groan, and she turned her head away, pushing him back. Roy persisted, no, no, she couldn't just _stop,_ couldn't just _deny_ him, not when he'd waited for so long, not when he'd come so_ close_. He kissed the side of her neck, her ear, nipping at it, but she slid off the table, stumbling back a few steps. Riza scrubbed at her face with the back of her arm, and a horrible thought came to him. Was she...wiping off his kisses?

"Roy...why? Why did you have to go and do this?"

He knew what she meant, standing there, the sound of sadness and frustration in her voice, why did he have to complicate things, why did he insist on going farther than he _knew_ she'd go, why did he have to be _himself,_ all the time?

He wanted to angrily answer that _he_ hadn't been the one to do anything_,_ _she_'d gotten so close, looked at him with those large beautiful eyes, practically offered her delicious lips to him! But then he blinked and began to see what was in front of him.

Yes, he _had_ done something. Her mouth and neck were red from where he'd kissed her so hard, and her hair was rather chaotic from where he'd dragged his hands through it, and with a jolt, he noticed that her hands shook from the unspoken ferocity he'd just displayed. It all made her seem suddenly less pretty, less like the girl he valued so much, but so, _so _appealing. Just like the sluts whose names he'd already forgotten.

Roy didn't like this, looking so intensely at her. What he wanted was to stop staring at what he'd done and keep kissing her until she couldn't say no anymore, but he forced himself to watch, see the wrinkled and untucked blouse, which was shocking to see on a person normally so pulled together. The crooked skirt from where he'd run his hands down and down and down until it had reached the back of her thigh, the heartbroken and upset expression on normally so blank a face. The undone buttons which showed him a prime view of her bra, which was so astonishing he couldn't even compare it to normal, every day Riza. He looked away, down at his knees, becoming even more disgusted and ashamed when he saw his unzipped pants. He'd really though he could just...have sex with her, like she was some trash he could forget about? Like he'd be able to see her the next day and the day after that and the day after that and on for _forever,_ maybe, acting like nothing had changed, like he still respected every single thing she did because he _knew_ she'd let no one ruin her?

"Riza..." he managed to get out, barely able to look at her face. "I...I'm...sorry. I never meant to it to...get so out of hand."

She laughed at this, a harsh, broken little thing that was part tears and part bitterness and part hysteria. She shook her head, pressing her lips together and looking away. He slid off the table as well, running a hand through his hair. Roy pulled out his phone and mumbled "I should...I should call a taxi, then."

"You think?" Riza asked, and Roy closed his eyes, feeling sick at the sound of her voice. He'd never heard Riza sound like _this,_ like her faith and happiness and everything good was gone in the world, gone because of him. She turned her back to him, probably trying to compose herself, and Roy quietly gave the address to her house, as well as taking the opportunity to straighten himself up without the knowledge that she was staring at him with reproach and disbelief and disgust.

He put his phone away and said "They'll be here in a few minutes," and then turned to the table, picking up his books without waiting for her answer. He didn't really expect one, anyways, so he shouldn't have felt another stab of pain when none came, but he did, right in the middle of his chest.

He finished packing up and silently let himself out of her house, the door making a soft, sad click behind him. Before, on the other side of these last ten minutes, Roy had thought that he'd be embarrassed should things go wrong, embarrassed and mournful and hurt. As the taxi pulled up, he let out a terrible, anguished little chuckle.

How wrong had he been. This, what he was feeling...it was so much worse.

_**AN OH MY GOSH WHAT HAVE I JUST DONE. I felt bad enough writing this scene (well, okay not really), but then I went over it and thought about how this must be for you guys! You just barely get a dose of happy and you see things be patched up between Ed and Winry, and then I go and punch you in the feels because I feel like it. And then I went back to reference something in an earlier chapter and I ended up on the reviews page and I saw how happy everyone was at the thought of Roy and Riza finally coming to terms with their relationship and asdfjkl; I regret it all and yet none of it at the same time. **_

_**after this i will not be surprised if i woke up punched in the face by you guys. just saying.**_

_**IGNORING THAT, I just...I love the last half of the chapter. It was one of the very first scenes I wrote for this story, so it's been sitting around for about a year, and I've been staring at it, waiting, waiting, WAITING, promising it that one day, it will make its way into the story. AND HERE IT IS.  
><strong>_

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<br>Toccata & Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
>Breakdown - Jack Johnson<br>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven  
>Sonata K. 545, Mo. 1 - Mozart<br>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin  
>Valse op. 69 'L'adieu - Chopin<br>Why Georgia, Why - John Mayer  
>I Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<br>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones  
>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<br>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum  
>The Tower - Vienna Teng<br>Polonaise in G Minor - Chopin  
>Raincheck - Art Farmer<br>Waterfall - Jon Schmidt  
>Give Me the Simple Life - Jamie Cullum<br>Still Love - Holly Brook  
>Familiar Taste of Poison - Halestorm<br>Rilassamento - Gianni Pavesi  
>Hope - Royal Tailor<br>The Soldier - PJ Harvey & John Parish  
>You Will - Lia Ices<br>What Am I To You? - Norah Jones  
>Innocent - Taylor Swift<br>Frontin' - Jamie Cullum  
>The Soldier - PJ Harvey &amp; Tom Parish<br>Oh Land - Lean  
>Sonata in D Major for Two Pianos, K. 448 - Mozart<br>Something's Gotta Give - Sammy Davis, Jr.  
>The House That Built Me - Miranda Lambert<br>Waltz in a minor - Chopin  
>Prelude Op. 28 No. 4 - Chopin<br>**Too Close For Comfort - Jamie Cullum  
>Let's Just Stay In - Tony DeSare<br>Are You the One - Peter Cincotti  
>Diana - Paul Anka (1957 version)<br>Where is Your Heart At? - Jamie Cullum  
><strong>**It's Not Unusual - Tom Jones  
><strong>**Moondance - Micheal Buble**  
><em>


	16. La Vie En Rose

**_AN Thank you everyone for your comments and faves and la la la it was lovely to see. You always take my breath away with the love you nearly drown me with :)_**

**_I am so sick of looking at this chapter. I actually wrote it very fast, but it was a behemoth of a whopping +7,000 words, and asdfjkl; that's just way too long. So I slashed paragraph after paragraph, and managed to get rid of over a thousand words of fluff. Now it is physically impossible to make it any shorter and keep all the parts I want OTL So...just take it and enjoy the last Royai chapter of substance for a while._**

Riza lay there, unable to drag up the desire to move. The memories of the night before played through her head, the way Roy had kissed her, held her like she was something important, run his hand through her hair like he was stroking gold...It all made her want to burst into tears.

Her mind buzzed with thoughts, and she closed her eyes, begging for it to be quiet. The same handful of thoughts were whirling around and around until she'd thought she'd _scream._

_Shhh, shhh..._ she kept thinking, a mantra that had no effect. Finally she sat up, head heavy and tongue thick. She glanced at the clock, almost eight. Her grandfather would be there in half an hour to deliver Black Hayate.

After Roy had left, Riza had sat down at her table in a thorough state of shock. She rested her forehead against her hand, laughing at the irony of the situation. Then the laugh turned into a sob and she felt like she was choking on disgust and tears. She didn't cry as much as the first time Roy had kissed her, and even now Riza suspected that these were more out of frustration than sadness, which she guessed was something. Still, she wasn't used to such an open display of emotion, even if there had been no one but her table and kitchen sink to see it.

Once she'd pulled herself more or less together, Riza had picked up the phone and dialed her grandfather. When he answered, she asked if he'd drop her dog off the following morning.

"I know it's kind of weird, but I..."

"It's alright, Riza," he'd said gently, giving Riza the vague feeling that he knew exactly what had happened.

"I'll leave him at your place in the morning. How about eight-thirty? Plenty of time to, what is it you girls say, 'put your face on'." That had made her smile, because she very rarely bothered with makeup and he knew it.

"Okay. Thank you, Grandpa."

"Not at all. See you, then."

Riza had hung up, then forced herself to get ready for bed even though it wasn't seven twenty. Surprisingly, she had fallen asleep right away, as if her brain knew the kind of hammering it was in for and wanted to stall for as long as possible.

Now, Riza pulled back the blankets and got up, staggering when the blood rushed from her head. She blinked away spots, grabbing clothes from her closet and stumbled to the bathroom. Her shower was short and scalding, like she could sear herself into normality. Breakfast wasn't much more than toast and a glass of juice, and then her grandfather was ringing her doorbell.

She opened it, managed a smile and thanked him again for bringing her dog, and he gave a short nod. He peered at her through his glasses, brows furrowed.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked gently, and she shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. I was just feeling lonely." She considered dropping a comment about it being 'that time of the month' to scare him away, but decided against it. He was only trying to look after her like he was supposed to. Just because he let her live on her own didn't mean he considered her a real adult yet, and honestly, she was thankful for that. Riza wasn't treated like a sixteen year old very often anymore.

"Well, I guess I had better make myself scarce. You've only got a day left before the dance, and from what I heard, you're really in crunch time."

"I've got all my work done," she told him, and he just smiled.

"I'll be seeing you tomorrow. Chaperone, you know," he called over his shoulder, and she waved. Riza closed the door then crouched by Black Hayate. She pressed her face into his fur, hugging him and wishing her heart would stop hurting. As if sensing his mistress' pain, Black Hayate licked her cheek, a surprisingly comforting gesture.

Riza straightened, making a snap decision. She hurried back to her room, pet barking lightly as she traded jeans for shorts. The radio had said that this was probably the last warm day of the year, and she intended to make full use of it.

Once she had changed, Riza headed into the kitchen, about to start a cleaning frenzy the house had never seen before. She always kept the place tidy, but now it seemed shamefully unkempt. The cabinets were dusty, there were dishes in her sink and her bathroom mirror had collected a disgusting array of tooth paste spatters. Riza wiped, swept and vacuumed every conceivable surface with a fury that was almost astonishing. Black Hayate started off yipping around her feet as she ran across the house, then realized that he wasn't about to receive any attention and decided to flop onto his cushion, staring at her forlornly.

Riza supposed this was her way of letting off stress. All of her typical options were out of the question due to injury or the inability to just sit still. It made her feel like the more she scrubbed at her counters, the cleaner and more understandable her relationship with him would become, and by noon, Riza had burned through her emotions so that she could think clearly.

When Riza found nothing else in her house to clean, she headed outdoors. Her mother had planted flower beds in front of the house, which had been neglected the last couple months. Granted, it was fall and nothing could really be done for plants that were about to die from cold, but she couldn't let herself stand still, not for a second.

Black Hayate wagged his tail excitedly as she opened the door and ushered him out, then grabbed some tools from the side shed.

Riza set into the weeds, ignoring her gloves and grabbing at tufts of grass with her bare hands. It was nice, being out in the sun, and the work actually managed to take her mind off of Roy. She had gotten half way through when she heard Black Hayate giving a bark in greeting, and the 'Hey, boy,' that followed.

Several people had walked by her house, and Black Hayate had barked at nearly every one of them, earning a greeting or a coo in return. This person could have been anyone, she told herself, but that didn't stop her stomach from sinking.

Riza absolutely refused to look up as she tore at the last few illusive blades of grass, and congratulated herself on not even blinking when she heard the strained "So, uh, hey, Riza." She did sigh though, sighed and rocked back on her heels, staring straight ahead at the side of her house and not up at the dark haired boy standing there awkwardly, waiting for judgment.

"Hello, sir," she said, letting the smack of coolness tell him exactly how she felt. They both waited for the other to speak, the pause growing into something strange and uncomfortable.

"Is it really cool enough for shorts?" he asked finally, making Riza look at him, hardly able to believe that he was criticizing her choice of clothing.

"Isn't it a bit warm for a long sleeve shirt and vest?" she asked with a nasty edge, and Roy looked away, looking embarrassed.

"Okay, not the right thing to say." She waited for him, because he clearly had something to say and she wanted to hear it. Roy took a breath, clearly forcing the words out.

"Riza, I'm sorry for last night. I...I never meant to do all that. I lost my head, but if you can even consider forgiving me...please."

Riza watched him, seeing the remorse and worry and even pain in his eyes, but wasn't quite ready to forgive him. She looked back at the flower bed, letting him sit in suspense for a little bit.

"Did you decide to come here on your own?" she asked finally and Roy shifted, acutely noticing the change in subject.

"No, uhm, after I...went home, I met Hughes. I mean, I didn't have my key like you said, but I headed back to see if anyone would be able to let me in, and I ran into him. I...I told him what happened, and he said I'd better make things up to you quick."

She laughed, tipping her head back and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. This seemed to encourage him, because when he spoke again, he sounded surer of himself.

"Riza," Roy began, "please, just tell me where you stand on this. I can hardly believe what I did, but I'm not sorry I did it. Honestly, if I was given a hundred chances to do last night over, I would have kissed you on every one, no doubt about it. But I'm ashamed of myself for having pushed you. I don't know what I was thinking, and-"

"That's the thing," she said, interrupting him with a gentle smile. "You weren't thinking."

In those few seconds, Riza suddenly found herself forgiving him. He looked like he was in _physical pain_ over how he'd acted, completely ashamed of his lack of control, and this wasn't how he acted after breaking up with some girl or being confronted by an ex. Roy usually laughed it off with a cold brush, but this...it told Riza that he was truly _sorry,_ that he meant every word.

And really, what had she expected when she let him yank her onto a table? That he'd be the perfect gentlemen and keep his hands in check? No, she'd known exactly what he'd do. Now Riza felt her own wash of shame, remembering how she had tugged off his tie and undid his shirt, giving what would be in Roy's mind, the introduction for what she wanted to happen.

"No," he laughed, "I wasn't. But that's not an excuse. I should have thought about you and what you actually wanted and...I'm sorry. Can you...uhm, can you forgive me?"

"No," she said in a huff, and he blinked, accepting his fate. Roy nodded and began to turn away when she continued. "Not until you help me weed this flower bed."

He turned back to look at her, eyebrows furrowing slightly in disbelief.

"But I'm wearing nice pants," he said blankly, like he didn't understand why she'd suggest he do something like do yard work when he was so well dressed.

"I have a pad you can kneel on," she countered, and he glanced around, weighing his desire to not get down on his knees and start yanking dandelions from the ground against the wish of redemption in her eyes. "If you're worried about your hands getting dirty, I have gloves," Riza added, and he scowled, probably imaging the way she'd harass him for needing gloves when she was there, wearing considerably less and up to her elbows in dirt.

"It's fine," he said, kneeling beside her despite the fact that he really was wearing a great pair of jeans. He pulled out a sprig of chickweed, reached around her and tossed it into her bucket. They were silent for a while, but it was a more comfortable silence with Roy than Riza had had for a long time. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had been truly comfortable with him, and now they were talking like nothing had happened, like things had always been wonderful.

_Imagine that,_ she thought, giving herself a small smile.

* * *

><p>Roy wound through the crowd, colored lights flashing over head, music filling air and the overall feel of excitement was bubbling out of everyone in laughter, dancing and bright eyed conversation.<p>

The party was, much to Rebecca and Maes' credit, fantastic. Roy had seen it in all stages of construction and knew the blood, sweat and tears that had been contributed to make it so marvelous. The party was held in one of the performance halls on campus, designed for concert/dinner fundraisers rather than full on recitals in an auditorium. Most of the floor was for dancing, while a stage had been set up for performers, food tables lined the nearest wall and several booths had been erected here and there, attracting people to try their luck at various contests and games. Tables had been set up near the door for people to sit and eat.

Roy left a group of fourth years, glancing around the hall and trying to identify everyone underneath their costumes. Everyone had gone all out, though he was especially impressed with Alphonse's costume. The boy was wearing a suit of armor a little too large for him, but it still managed to look a little unsettling.

"Al, where did you even find that thing?" Winry asked, Maria laughing and nodding as she adjusted the dog mask that she had pushed up from her face.

"Well, my dad kind of collects armor, and this one was the only one that would fit me," he said, helmet under one arm. Roy sidled up beside them, resting an arm on Maria's shoulder.

"What made you decide to wear it, though?" he asked, and Al shrugged, or at least, he tried to, the plates too large to show small movements.

"It was just something to do for kicks," he said, and Roy nodded, trying to grin. He knew exactly what Al meant, the desire to do something for no real reason. Thankfully though, his way wasn't horrifically destructive like Roy's.

"Ed a no show?" he asked, and Al shook his head.

"He said he'd rather hand out candy to trick-or-treaters." Roy nodded, then got a good look at Winry's costume.

"So, what are you supposed to be?" Roy asked Winry, looking over her red shirt, red and green head piece and green yoga pants.

"A tomato," she said straight faced, and Maria started laughing, pressing her hand over her mouth.

"I'm sorry, but man, every time I hear it, it's funny. Who would come as a_ tomato?_"

"Who would come as a salt and pepper shaker?" Winry shot back, and Maria laughed again, pointing at Winry.

"Hey, I told you, me and Brosch only did that in the eighth grade! We were kids!"

Roy laughed and left them as Winry rolled her eyes saying "Yeah, okay...", and Denny approached, holding two cups of punch and looking confused when everyone burst into laughter at the sight of him.

A new song started up on the stage, something slow and mellow with a tall tenor crooning into the mic and the piano playing a soft melody that quickly turned into fast paced jazz. The trumpets and drum and sax jumped in, making the crowd shriek.

Havoc's idea to have students perform some of the music had been a stroke of brilliance, and a largely swing and jazz theme had been settled on. The games that Rebecca had recruited him to conduct had gone over well, too, everyone laughing and cheering at a round of limbo or a wild game of impromptu charades. In a couple songs, though, Roy would be back in the spotlight, playing a solo with the jazz band.

He slipped through the crowd of dancers, trying not to get clipped by anyone moving too energetically. In a refreshing change, people weren't grinding or doing anything dirty but were just dancing to have_ fun,_ without the aid of alcohol or drugs. It wasn't really something he was used to.

Just off the stage, the jazz band was starting to assemble. Ling was glancing over his sheet music, the trombonists were exchanging valve oil and Falman was finishing up a hurried conversation with Havoc.

The act before them finished, the tenor ending on a long drawn out note as the piano, trumpet and drum playing to their fullest, making the crowd yell and wave their hands in the air. The DJ took over, saying that it was time to slow things down a bit, putting on a slow love song. People started shuffling into pairs, a few heading off the dance floor and some heading on, grinning and looking embarrassed as their wrapped arms around each other.

Roy turned his attention to his trumpet case, pulling out his trumpet and rapping his fingers over the valves. Beside him, Havoc finished soaking his reed and put it into his mouthpiece, making a comment about how he'd much rather be out on the dance floor with some hot girl.

"Yeah, I bet you'd finally be taking the chance to get a dance with Catalina," the second trumpet put in, and one of the trombonists added "Only to be shot down!"

In response, Jean elegantly flipped them off.

Roy grinned, noticing how the boy had glanced instinctively at Rebecca. She was sitting down at one of the far tables, dressed as a superhero. He also noticed, with more interest, Riza, who was next to her and wearing a delightfully revealing dress modeled after a famous cartoon mouse. She had done her makeup in a technically silly and over done way, but he thought it was cute, especially when he considered the way they so perfectly accented the lace edging that ran to the middle of her thigh. He pulled his eyes away before anyone noticed, flicking open his spit valve to make it look like he was actually doing something.

A few more minutes of conversation were exchanged, and then their bass player said it was time to go. The slow dance finished, and there was a pause as everyone turned to the jazz band on stage. After a short, loud intro on the toms, the jazz band launched into a fast paced song. The moment the music started, Roy felt excitement rising in his blood. There was nothing like playing the trumpet for a crowd of people who were ready to be pleased. Roy was convinced that out of all the things he enjoyed, music was the best. It was emotional and touching and powerful and, best of all, couldn't be corrupted. His solo was coming up, and Roy slid up to the front of the stage, a few people giving wolf whistles or cheering. He winked at the girls watching him, then began playing.

All he could think about as he played was how things were with Riza. Those quite ten minutes of weeding her flower beds had said every single thing he needed to hear. She didn't hate him for having kissed her like that, and was okay to actually continuing into a relationship. He was allowed to admire her mouth or her legs or whatever just as much as her intelligence and levelheadedness and be absolutely guilt free. Roy felt elated, thinking that he could just _care _for her.

His solo finished, Roy fell back in line with the rest of the band, reveling in the whoops and claps that people managed while dancing. In a few more breathless seconds, they were finished, and a heavy set girl with the pipes of an organ walked up to the microphone.

She started off with a slow, lovely melody, which quickly alternated between one so fast and whimsical Roy could hardly make the words out. He let his eyes wander from the music, exchanging looks with the second trumpet. The boy rolled his eyes at the singer, who had a penchant for taking herself a little too seriously. Roy glanced at her, holding onto the mic as if her song alone was keeping the world stitched together, confining himself to a smile instead of a burst of laughter that would result in a horrid sound from the trumpet and a very ruined song.

It wasn't very long, something about love and sunshine and certain memories making her head go round and round and in an eye blink, it was over. Roy sighed in relief as the DJ took over and played another pop song, giving the jazz band enough cover to remove themselves from the stage.

"Could you have played that up any more?" Havoc asked, elbowing Roy and causing him to make a face.

"I was just getting into the part," he said, making him snort. Jean pulled the neck off of his saxophone, letting the body hang from his neck strap as he finished disassembling it for storage.

"Just like little Miss Something over there," Havoc said, jerking a thumb at the singer who had already reached a table.

"_Please_," Roy said, trying to imagine ever taking himself so seriously. Havoc laughed and closed his case, then straightening to stretch.

"Man, I can't wait to get out of this monkey suit," he sighed, glancing down at his formal shirt, vest and slacks. He had planned on going as a Xerxes god, but Rebecca had insisted that the performers wear matching formal attire. Roy had to agree with her choice, as a mishmash of costumes would hardly look impressive on a stage, regardless of the setting.

"Awh, I think you look cute," the drummer laughed, and Havoc rolled his eyes. Roy put his trumpet away, then headed over to where Riza and Rebecca were still sitting. Rebecca was talking about something animatedly, using hand gestures to their fullest while Riza listened and looked amused.

"Hello, ladies," he said, dropping into a chair beside them.

"-and really - hi, Roy- what does he expect? We'd only been on two dates. 'Not a cock before wedlock', is that really so weird? You'd think I'd said I feasted on baby's blood or something. But then I found out that he was almost twenty, and decided that, accent or no, I was leaving."

"He was obviously a waste of your time," Riza said, earning a 'Yeah!' from Rebecca. "You done for the night?" Riza asked Roy, and he nodded, resting his cheek on his hand.

"Thankfully. I don't mind it when I have solos, but when I'm just the accompaniment..." Riza smiled and Rebecca rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her punch.

"My heart weeps for your ego," she said dryly, and he grinned.

"I have a question," Riza said in a lull between songs, and Roy looked at her. "What's Ling wearing?"

Roy looked over his shoulder to where Riza was staring, then nodded as he caught sight of Ling standing at one of the game stalls, caramel apple in hand. He was bare chested except for a yellow-orange jacket, had white pants and plain black shoes. Ran Fan was behind him, wearing something similar to a ninja's uniform, except she had a rather unsettling mask slung around her neck.

"Apparently, he's dressed as a Xingese prince. Ran Fan's his body guard."

"You know, somehow their whole get up fits..." Rebecca murmured, eyes narrowing over Roy's shoulder. She stared intently for a moment, then raised her voice.

"Havoc, what are you doing?" Roy and Riza both turned to watch Havoc, who looked rather sheepish as he brandished paper and pen. He hadn't changed out of his band outfit yet, but his tie had vanished, his vest flapped open and a couple of buttons on his shirt had been loosed.

"Just gonna make a sign," he said, and Rebecca reluctantly nodded.

"I don't trust him," she muttered, then gasped, rising half way out of her seat.

"Havoc, don't you_ dare_ be making a sign for that kissing booth! I told you_ no!_" she snapped, leaping after Havoc as apparently ran away.

"He petitioned to have one pretty hard last week. Rebecca shot him down, but I guess he decided to take a swing anyways," Riza explained, and Roy shook his head.

"You have to admire his determination, though. He should get a trophy or something."

"Yeah, and it might be a fist to the stomach, the way Becca's looking," Riza said, and Roy grinned, thankful for about the thousandth time that things had eased between them. They made small talk for a moment, then Roy changed the subject.

"Hey Riza, c'mon, let's dance."

"I can't, Roy," she said, giving a resigned shrug. "We have your image to think about."

He scowled, making her smile. "Come on, just _one_ dance. No one's going to think I'm in your pants because of that. I've already danced with five girls, and no one's hissing nasty things about them."

"It is, as you know, completely different. Plus I've two left feet."

Roy made a face at her, trying to ignore the butterflies she still gave him.

"I think that's just an excuse for your wall flowering," he said flatly, and she rolled her eyes.

"Not true. I've already danced with three guys, you know. I just don't want to have to go out there and embarrass myself when everyone's bound to be staring at us."

"Lemme guess who they were. Havoc, Falman and maybe Fuery."

"Nope. Havoc, Fuery and a fifth year."

"Well now, aren't we lucky," he said with mock surprise, when really, he felt jealous. It was stupid, him not being able to dance with her. Why couldn't people just leave well enough alone?

"Yes, indeed."

Roy scowled a moment, chewing his lip, then gave a mischievous grin.

"What," Riza said suspiciously, and he shrugged.

"I was just wondering if you'd be alright to meeting me in that hallway after this song ends," he said, and she narrowed her eyes. "No one's gonna see us, we'll play it safe," Roy promised, and a sarcastic smile stretched her lips.

"Because sneaking off with Roy Mustang is playing it safe."

"_Sneaking,_ Riza. Note the emphasis."

"And making out is going to be better than just _dancing_ with you. Your logic's skewed."

Roy furrowed his brows, staring at her intently. Riza scowled at him, holding his gaze. Their staring matches usually ended in her favor, but Roy was determined. He _was_ going to kiss her tonight, and no one else would have a say in the matter. She folded her arms, and he could tell she wanted this, he could just _feel_ it, if he just kept staring...

"We wouldn't be running off, hand in hand like a pair of idiots, would we?" she asked finally, not looking at him. Roy kept himself from leaping into the air with a triumphant shout and fist pump, instead saying "_Nooo_, I'd wander off, talk to some people while you casually went over there, and then I'd head over after a few minutes passed."

"People aren't going to notice you being gone?"

"They never do," he said with a grin, standing up and striding away to make small talk with a clump of people. He glanced over his shoulder, tossing her a wave, getting an eye roll in response.

His conversation with the party goers was short, and he kept careful watch of Riza as she stood up, headed towards the trash can, threw her punch cup away, then took the last few steps to the doors of the hallway. He waited a few seconds longer before ending his conversation with a 'Oh, sorry, Maes told me I needed to go get something before the next act starts,' and then he was in front of the double doors, practically bouncing with excitement.

It was like he was a kid who had never stepped out doors, and then was suddenly whisked away to a carnival. The legitimacy of asking Riza if she was okay with this, and her agreeing, it was enough to make him spring off the walls. Finally, after all this waiting and fretting and bumbling, he had _gotten_ somewhere with Riza.

The hallway was dark, only the light from the filtered windows breaking up the gloom. Riza stood back a ways, arms folded.

"So now what?" she asked, sounding skeptical, but he knew her well enough to hear the edges of worry in her voice.

"Now, you let me kiss you like the professional I am," he said, earning a scoff.

"I don't think you should be boasting about your history with girls to me, Roy. Doesn't give the best impression." He was walking towards her, and she self-consciously edging back. He held up his hands as if showing he wasn't armed.

"Please, Riza. You know me back to front. A comment about my 'history' isn't going to throw you off _now._" She smiled, shrugging.

"No, I guess not," she whispered, and by now he was right in front of her. Roy kissed her, softer than he had before. Her smile tasted wonderful, and she smelled like flowers.

"This isn't smart," Riza told him and he laughed, hands on her hips.

"Riza Hawkeye, you can't always do what's smart," he responded, pulling her hair down. She rested her heeled foot against the wall, once more making him acutely aware of how lovely her thigh was. Roy's kisses were becoming deeper and deeper, Riza had her thumbs hooked around the back hem of his pants, and he was about to kiss her throat when the hallway door clack open.

"Alright Roy, break it up. We're going to keep this dance nice and clean."

Roy gasped, choked and strangled a yelp of surprise all at once. Riza hissed in a breath, hiding her face in his neck as he whipped around to stare at the person standing in the light of the doorway, his mind spinning in horror.

It was Grumman. It was Grumman, Riza's grandfather, Roy had her in his arms in a very compromising situation and they'd been caught by _Riza's grandfather. _Roy gave a strained chuckle_ praying_ that he hadn't seen just who it was Roy had been lip locking with.

"Roy, _what're we going to do?"_ Riza demanded in his ear, and he thought fast.

"I'll just step outside and look the other way to let the young lady slip away unknown, and then we talk, Roy," Grumman said, sensing their reluctance to walk where he could see them.

"O-okay," Roy managed to get out, heart pounding even though they had been given a chance at remaining undetected. All he could think about was how _stupid_ this whole thing had been, and how being caught by Riza's only remaining relative was infinitely worse than having the school gossip stumble across them.

Grumman made good on his word and stepped out of the hallway, disappearing from the window's view. Riza and Roy turned and stared at each other, still in each other's arms, then let out tense laughter.

"That could have been _so_ bad," he sighed. Riza had her forehead on his shoulder, shaking with laughter as the whole situation sank in.

"I _never_ would have guessed this is where I'd be three days ago," she chuckled, and he tried not to guffaw with relief.

"I'm sorry Riza, I should never have suggested this," he began, but she shook her head, smiling.

"Forget it. I was thinking the same thing as you." At this his heart picked up- she had been thinking about kissing him just as much he'd thought about kissing her? Riza tapped on his chest, breaking his chain of thought. Roy stepped back, allowing her to head towards the doors. She paused, smoothing her skirt and retying her hair then glanced back at him. He raised crossed fingers and she made a face, pushing through the doors and hurrying past Grumman. Roy sighed. Now it was his turn.

He sauntered towards the doors, pushing them open to a lecture he wasn't exactly looking forward to. Grumman was standing with his back facing Roy and clasping his hands like he was a high ranking officer in the military, inspecting a row of troops. Roy cleared his throat, and the professor turned around, giving the boy a knowing smile.

"Did you, uh, see who she was?" he asked awkwardly, and Grumman shook his head.

"I didn't. I was too busy admiring the decorations Miss Catalina put together. I'd imagine they're infinitely more satisfying to look at than the embarrassed girl that you wreaked havoc on."

"I didn't wreak havoc on her!" Roy protested, face flushing. 'Wreaking havoc upon' was _not_ a term he ever wanted to apply to Riza.

Grumman chuckled and waved a hand, and Roy shifted, waiting for what he'd say next.

"Either way, you know it's against school policy to go so far with public displays of affection, as you've been caught and lectured about them several times. This is your...fifth trespass?"

"Fourth," he said grumpily, and Grumman's eyes sparkled with laughter. In a way, it was great good luck that Grumman had caught them and not some other teacher, in that he'd always been a little more sympathetic with Roy's philandering as he'd done much the same in his youth. But if he ever found out that it had been _Riza_ this time...things might be a little different.

"Alright, fourth. Let's see...I know. The play that's coming up next month, they're a little short handed. Why don't you and that lovely lady go and help them out?"

"I'll pop by on Monday to make sure you're there. Don't forget to tell her, now," he said, and then walked briskly off. Roy stared after Grumman, wondering just what the old man knew.

He dragged his feet toward the refreshments table, forcing himself not to find Riza. He could tell her the news when they weren't almost cracking up from the stress of almost having blown everything.

"You look like crap," Havoc noted as Roy walked up, handing him the cup he'd just filled.

"You too. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much. 'Cept I haven't had a smoke since lunch and I'm starting to feel jittery." Roy scowled as he took the cup. Jean was already an addict, and he was barely even seventeen. He took a sip of punch, glancing over the table of goodies with distaste.

"Wow, do I know _that_ look. Girl trouble. You get caught or slapped?"

"Got caught," he grunted into his cup, and Havoc grinned, toothpick bobbing.

"Everything good?"

"Yeah. S'just that we have to help with the upcoming play."

"Awh, that's not too bad. You could've gotten a referral or something. Ha, remember that time they tried writing to the Madame?" Roy laughed darkly at the memory of Madame Christmas dropping a letter explaining how appalling his behaviour had been in his lap. He'd looked up at her after reading it, and she shrugged, taking a drag on her cigarette.

"I sent them a not saying I didn't really care what you do. It's not _my_ dick that's getting herpes," she told him, and Roy had laughed, utterly surprised.

"Who caught you, anyways?" Havoc asked, and Roy sighed.

"Grumman."

"That's not too bad! I mean, he cuts you slack. Why do you look like a dead man walking, then?"

"Because...of the girl," Roy said, and Havoc raised his eyebrows, resting an elbow on the table. Roy debated telling him, not wanting more people than absolutely necessary to know about him and Riza, yet _needing_ to get this secret off his chest.

"Who was it?"

"You can't tell a soul, Jean."

"Alright, whatever you say, Colonel," Havoc said, straightening and raising his hands. Things were serious when Roy called him 'Jean' to his face.

"It was Riza," he said in a rush, eyes closed as if that would make things better. He opened them after a moment to see Havoc staring at him, an incredulous smile on his face.

"You're not joking."

"No."

Havoc laughed, putting a hand on his head as he mulled this over.

"Good word, I thought maybe...but then I thought naw... But hey! You made a move on her, and she liked it! Celebration, right?"

"Shut up," Roy told him, and Havoc shrugged.

"I'd be happy if something like this happened. She's...interested, right?"

"I think so," he said, feeling suddenly giddy. "I _really_ think so."

Havoc smiled, clapping Roy on the back.

"In that case, I'm happy for you."

**_AN asdfjkl; I like Riza's costume. It's Minnie Mouse~ lol i'm not clever at all of these costumes BUT I DON'T EVEN CARE ANYMORE._**

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>"Fantasie" Impromptu, Op. 66 - Chopin<br>Toccata & Fugue in D Minor - Vanessa Mae  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
>Breakdown - Jack Johnson<br>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven  
>Sonata K. 545, Mo. 1 - Mozart<br>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin  
>Valse op. 69 'L'adieu - Chopin<br>Why Georgia, Why - John Mayer  
>I Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<br>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones  
>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<br>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum  
>The Tower - Vienna Teng<br>Polonaise in G Minor - Chopin  
>Raincheck - Art Farmer<br>Waterfall - Jon Schmidt  
>Give Me the Simple Life - Jamie Cullum<br>Still Love - Holly Brook  
>Familiar Taste of Poison - Halestorm<br>Rilassamento - Gianni Pavesi  
>Hope - Royal Tailor<br>The Soldier - PJ Harvey & John Parish  
>You Will - Lia Ices<br>What Am I To You? - Norah Jones  
>Innocent - Taylor Swift<br>Frontin' - Jamie Cullum  
>Oh Land - Lean<br>Sonata in D Major for Two Pianos, K. 448 - Mozart  
>Something's Gotta Give - Sammy Davis, Jr.<br>The House That Built Me - Miranda Lambert  
>Waltz in a minor - Chopin<br>Prelude Op. 28 No. 4 - Chopin  
>Too Close For Comfort - Jamie Cullum<br>Let's Just Stay In - Tony DeSare  
>Are You the One - Peter Cincotti<br>Diana - Paul Anka (1957 version)  
>Where is Your Heart At? - Jamie Cullum<br>It's Not Unusual - Tom Jones  
>Moondance - Micheal Buble<em>  
><strong><em>You Do Something to Me - Banu Gibson<br>People Will Say We're in Love - Sophie Milman  
>Love Me Tender - Norah Jones<br>Help Yourself - Tom Jones  
>I Won't Dance - Micheal Buble &amp; Jane Monheit<br>La Vie En Rose - Madeleine Peyroux  
>Everything - Micheal Buble<br>The More I See You - Micheal Buble  
>The Way You Look Tonight - Maroon 5<em>**


	17. So and So

_**AN Man, I am just on a run today. Three stories updated, alright! But, wow, we're out of Royai land! FINALLY. So, enjoy this Edwin breath of fresh air :)**_

Winry brushed her hair out of her face, leaning back in her chair.

The Halloween dance had been an enormous amount of fun, and she had laughed and talked and shouted herself completely hoarse. Thankfully, the following day had been a Sunday, so Winry had thankfully been allowed some time to relax. She had used the day to catch up on neglected homework, write a letter to Harry and let her painfully hoarse voice heal. She was especially thankful for the break on Monday when her day started off with a block period of Chamber Choir. It had become one of her favorite classes of the day, the songs they were working on were not only beautiful, but the director was an energetic man who enjoyed telling jokes and who made sure to spike his hair every day. Despite his bright, upbeat attitude, though, he was as hard a worker as any when it came to perfecting his group's music.

"It makes me tired just looking at him," Maria had whispered to her as they left the classroom, and Winry had nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. It had been nonstop action from the moment class had started. He had bounded through warm ups, then launched into their fastest song. She enjoyed the energy, but sometimes it was nice to get a few seconds to breathe. After Chamber Choir, she had gone to PE, then English and finally Science. It was like all of her teachers had decided to unanimous to throw assignment after assignment at them.

Now though, sitting at her desk in Garfeil's, Winry let the tension slowly ease out of her. The feel of a screwdriver through her gloves and the quiet scraping sound of pliers winding a wire tight were a relaxing lullaby she had come to know so well.

Winry was humming to herself as she bent over the nervous system of an automail hand when she heard Mister Garfeil mention her name. Her attention was dragged away somewhat from the wires in front of her, listening inattentively to the conversation. Her employer's voice was easily discernible amidst the sound of the shop, but the quieter voice of the person he was speaking to was lost in the clanks and grunts from the garage.

"Oh, Winry? Yes, she works here...oh, she said you could come right in and see her? ...Then go on back, yes, that way."

It wasn't until she heard the quiet knock that she looked up, and then tried to keep from leaping out of her chair.

Edward stood there, looking a little awkward as he lowered his arm from where he'd knocked on the door frame. He was wearing a light blue button down shirt and dark jeans, a shocking change from his school uniform. Winry couldn't help but glance down at her own clothes, a stained tank top and mechanic's coveralls and feel embarrassed. Then she reminded herself that this wasn't some special event, she was at work and couldn't afford to look cute.

Besides, a part of her said, the bitter part that remembered just how harshly he had looked at her before, she didn't care what he thought. She just wanted to fix his automail.

"Uh-uhm, Edward, hi," she said, fumbling for words and looking around for something to do. "Come-come in."

Winry pulled out a stool for him to sit on, and he sat beside her, looking a little apprehensive. She noticed he wasn't wearing gloves, his mismatched hands staring the world in the face.

"So, how are you? I mean, how's your arm?"

_Why is this so awkward?_ she thought miserably, wishing she could treat him like every other one of her clients.

"It's alright. Nothing's changed since you fixed it up the other day, but I've still been feeling pain."

"As often as before?" she asked, and bit by bit, she became more sure of herself. So what if this was Edward Elric? She had an arm to fix, and that was that. He was just another client, nothing more.

"No."

"Alright. Can you roll up your sleeve?"

Edward nodded, pulling it back to just above his elbow. She again undid the plate, revealing the inner workings of the limb, though this time, she took her time as she examined it. Again, the incompetence of Edward's mechanic struck her, and all she could wonder was how on _earth_ he had ended up with them. She would have asked, but her grandmother had drilled professionalism into her very soul.

_Being someone's mechanic is exactly like any open relationship. You don't ask who they've been seeing. If they try asking who else you're working on, you ignore the question or make it clear you're above answering_ it.

"Something wrong?" he asked, and she looked up, shrugging.

"No, I just...you arm's in appalling condition, and I..." She bit her cheek, keeping the words back. She would be professional. She would show Edward just how good a mechanic she was, and she would _keep her mouth shut._

"I know," he sighed, sounding irritated. "It's a nightmare trying to find a mechanic that will work on my arm here in Central, and I know that if I look a little harder, maybe I'll find someone better but...I don't want to just let the guy go," he admitted, and Winry blinked because this wasn't something she had expected from Edward. He cared enough about his crappy mechanic as to not want to just toss him to the side of the road for something better? Interesting...

"Well, thankfully, you won't have to worry about that for a while," she said, flashing a smile. "I'll fix you right up."

Winry instantly set to work, first disconnecting his nerves and then began fixing wires and replacing pieces and taking out those that had no business being wedged in there. He watched silently, and at first Winry felt self-conscious, paranoid that he was criticizing everything she did, but then she realized that he was just...watching. Edward was examining her hands as they worked continuously, and a glance at his face said that he was genuinely interested.

What was he thinking about her work, she kept wondering. Would he comment on how confidently she worked, or her hands just knew where to go? Was he thinking about how unusual it was for a fifteen year old to know her way so well around mechanics?

She had to stop herself at this point. Winry was fishing for compliments from herself and that was just vain.

When she glanced up at his face, she noticed that hie was furrowing his brows.

"What?" she asked, and he looked up, expression clearing.

"What? Oh, uhm, nothing, I was just...I was wondering if you could...uhm, take a look at...the rest of it." The last half of his sentence became quieter and quieter until she could barely hear him, even though they were sitting right beside each other.

"Say that again?" Edward took a breath, closing his eyes and saying "Could you take a look at the rest of it?"

Winry blinked, nodding and saying "Uh, yeah, sure, no problem."

Edward's hands reached up to unbutton his shirt, and she noticed how self-conscious he suddenly looked, like he was convinced she was going to judge him in every way. This was a little laughable, as she was trying to get past the fact that he was missing his entire arm. She shouldn't have been surprised, not this much, she'd seen worse injuries on people, but...sitting here with Edward, considering the magnitude of the accident that had caused him to lose an entire limb...it made her stop and take a moment to think.

He finished unbuttoning his shirt, and after the briefest moment of hesitation, Edward pulled his right arm out of its sleeve. Winry bit her lip when she saw the scarring around the socket. That small portion of his shoulder told her a lot, maybe too much. Whatever had caused Edward to lose his arm, it had not been clean. It looked like his arm had literally been ripped away causing large, uneven scars. Further more, they didn't look like the doctors had bothered fixing them, implying that the bleeding had been too heavy and that they'd had to start the surgery immediately.

Winry took a breath, then leaned over to take a closer look at the upper part of his arm. That vague feeling of recognition came back to Winry, like she'd seen automail like this before. She ran her fingers across the edge of one of the plates, then blinked.

"What?" he asked, and Winry shook her head, narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing, it's just...I feel like...maybe I've seen this..."

Pushing the plate out of place, she lifted it to her eyes. The small inscription on the inside made her heart leap, and she felt unexpected tears in her eyes. The tiny words, wide and official said 'Rockbell', her grandmother's seal on any finished piece of work. She should have guessed, right from the beginning, but the odds had seemed so remote, one of her grandmother's final pieces of work popping up on her piano teacher? Winry would have laughed at the thought on any other occasion.

"My grandmother made this?"

"Uhm, yeah," he said, looking embarrassed like he'd been caught in a lie.

Winry held her breath, forcing back the tears that started pricking in her eyes as she forced her fingers to continue working. This was stupid, why was she getting all emotional over a piece of automail? Granted, it was probably one of the last truly marvelous pieces her grandmother had done before dying, but she didn't need to start _crying_ over it.

"You...didn't know?"

"What? No, I didn't. It's no big deal, though. I mean, she never really talked about all the pieces she made, and I only knew about the ones in magazines or those for the people back in Resembool. To her, the past was the past, and unless something important or special happened, there wasn't much point in dwelling on it.

"And she wasn't the kind to view her own work as anything special," Edward said, nodding with a half smile on his face.

Winry nodded, thinking about how grandmother had gone to Central once a month to work on the automail of the people living there.

"If I didn't do it, who would?" she'd told Winry when the girl had asked why she bothered going when there were already mechanics there. Winry had over heard the stories when her parents asked Pinako about her trips. Had she heard mention of Edward and not realized it? She searched her brain, suddenly wishing he had paid more attention.

"Resembool," Edward murmured, catching her attention. "I think my father passed through there, and he and Pinako met at a bar."

"_Really?_" she asked, straightening. She hadn't known that her grandmother had known _Von Hohenheim._

"Yeah. He always said he'd take my family there, but it...it never happened."

"I wonder why. I mean, Central's not that far away from Resembool, a few hour's ride."

"Hm? Oh, me and Al didn't live in Central back when we were kids. We lived in the southwest, out in the country with our mom. We only came to Central when I was nine."

Winry nodded, mulling this over. She leaned back, giving a slight sigh as she changed the subject.

"Alright, Edward, here's the deal with your automail. You arm's gonna need some pretty heavy duty work done, but I can make it good as new, no problem. The only thing is that it's going to take time. So, you have two options. Leave the arm with me for about a week and wear a replacement until I'm done, or drop your arm off on the weekends for about a month."

Edward frowned, thinking. He brushed his hair out of his face, nodding.

"What are the pros and cons?"

"Well, with the first option, you'll have your arm fixed sooner and you can go on your merry way. _But,_ the replacement isn't going to be as nice as the one you are using now, so it'll be easier for people to tell you arm's made of metal. The second one will take longer, but you arm will be just as good in the end as if you had left it with me for a week. You'll have to still wear the replacement, but it'll be during the weekend and you can hide it easier and all that stuff. Unfortunately, you'll have to live with a slightly dysfunctional arm for a longer amount of time. I'd fix all the bigger problems first so you're less likely to mess your arm up on accident, but it'll be easier to hide."

"Can I see the replacement?" he asked, and she nodded, standing up and striding over to a shelf holding various functional models. She pulled on down that she guessed was about his size then carried it over to him. Edward took it with his left arm, weighing it expertly.

"It's heavy," he murmured, and she nodded.

"Since it's just a spare, it's going to be more like a normal prosthesis. No heating plates, lesser sensitivity, that kind of thing."

"I think I'll go with the second option," he said, and Winry wasn't surprised. The panic on his face when she had asked him about his arm was fresh in her mind, and there was no doubt that he was terrified that more people would find out.

"Alright, then. You can come back on Friday after school, leave your arm with me and then pick it up on Sunday afternoon. Other than that, I think you're done. Hold on, let me hook your nerves back up."

Edward nodded, gritting his teeth. He flinched when the nerves reconnected, then let out a deep sigh.

"Dammit, I hate going through that," he grunted, and she grinned.

Winry stood back up, brushing her hands against each other as he pushed his arm back through the shirt, then buttoned it back up.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said, expecting Edward to grunt a goodbye and walk out. Instead, he stayed there, hands gripping the edge of the stool he was sitting on.

"Winry, one more thing..."

"I'm not going to tell anyone," she said, irritation sparking in her. Didn't he realize by now that he could trust her?

"No, not that, I mean...there's one more thing I'd like you to look at, if that's okay."

"...What?" she asked, and he shifted, clearly not wanting to say.

"My leg."

Winry couldn't help it, she leaned back in surprise. She struggled for something to say, _anything_ to say, but her mind was spinning around and around. He'd lost a leg as well? The truth of the situation dawned on her. The model her grandmother had used was several years old, about five, so he had been about ten when he'd lost his arm. Had he lost his leg at the same time, or had an entirely different tragedy befallen him?

"Yeah, no problem," she said, bending down as he took off his shoe and sock. Edward rolled up his pant leg, and she forced her sympathy and slight horror away so she could examine his leg properly.

It was an upscale model, but not customized like his arm. The leg also didn't have much wrong with it, other than some basic wear and tear, though she noticed that there was a small section that threatened to crack, should it not be attended to.

"It's not in bad shape. When was the last time you had a tune up?"

"A...while ago," he said, face flushing a little. She shook her head, sighing slightly and said "Okay. Well, you should have one about...once every month and a half, but I guess you can get away with two."

She noticed something, then got up, grabbing a measuring tape from her desk. After a thought, she dragged her own stool over, placing it in front of him.

"Hold on...here, can you put your feet up here? I need to measure your limbs."

Edward shifted his legs, and she tugged off his other shoe. She stretched the tape from the sole of his real foot to just above his knee, the same place where the automail was hooked up to the opposite leg. Winry did this for the other leg as well, nodding at the results.

"I thought so. Your automail leg is shorter than your real one. It's not by much, but it's not only straining your thigh, but can also put your spine out of alignment. If you want, I can swap you out and then you can have it back when you come in on Friday."

"Yeah, okay," he said after a moment, and she snapped off the nerves, disconnecting the automail from its fixture. A minute later, she was hooking up a new leg, less fancy than the previous one, but good enough to last him a week.

"That it?" she asked, half expecting him to admit he had yet another metal limb.

"Uhm, yeah," he said, bending over to put on his sock and shoes. She pulled off her gloves, sighing a little. It had gone much better than she had thought, something she could only be thankful for. He hadn't been hostile or snappish like he usually was during lessons, more intensely attentive like the words coming from her mouth were the most interesting things in the world. Edward's manner had also changed. He was softer, for lack of a better word. His words were milder, and he was much more laid back than when she'd seen him around St. Bradley's.

_Maybe it's because he's not paranoid someone's going to see his arm and freak out,_ she thought, watching him stand up. A weight like that off her shoulders would make her a lot more relaxed, too.

"So, you enjoy Halloween?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. There were trick or treaters, a lot crappy horror movies and a whole lot of candy...nothing much. You?"

"The dance was fun. I loved seeing everyone perform the music, that was awesome." Edward chuckled, shrugging.

"That's St. Bradley's for you. Always leaping at the chance to show of the student's skills."

She grinned, clearing away the tools she'd brought out to work on his arm. Edward put his hands in his pockets, shuffling a little.

"Winry, uh, thank you. You know, for working on my arm. I'd...I'd have been in a real jam otherwise."

"Of course you would have. But you're welcome."

He smiled at her, something that she hadn't really seen before. It completely changed his face, making him seem a little younger, like he hadn't gone through so much already. The light dropped from his eyes, though, and he looked humble, maybe even a little ashamed.

"And, you know, for not telling anyone. I...I'm really grateful for that."

Winry thought back to how he'd snapped at her back in the practice room, then nodded.

"Don't worry about it, Edward. Your secret's safe with me."

He turned to leave, then paused in the doorway.

"One more thing, Winry. Call me Ed."

She nodded, a little surprised, the smiled.

"Alright then, Ed."

With that, he left.

_**AN Oh, sweet development, I really like this. It's kind of fun shaking things up with some automail stuff. I kind of enjoy writing the technical stuff for the music or mechanics, which is kind of funny because I don't know anything about mechanics BUT WRITING'S ALL ABOUT MAKING THINGS UP, SO...**_

_**Also, of course, Ed's being all nice and cute and asdfjkl; I like it when they get along. Nowhere near as fun as writing angst and pain, but gosh, it's just so cute. AND FINALLY THEY CAN JUST STOP HATING EACH OTHER AND EVERYTHING'S JUST NICE AND WE GET SWEET LOVIN' TIMES AHEAD. or something.  
><strong>_

_**Finally, here are some songs that I can't truly apply to the story, but I think you should listen to them. They are the ones I imagine people performing for the dance last chapter: Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby - Melissa Morgan, Booty Swing - Parov Stelar, Mack the Knife - Micheal Buble and You and Me Are Gone - Jamie Cullum  
><strong>_

___Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin  
>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini  
>If I Ruled the World - Jamie Cullum<br>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum  
>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<br>Breakdown - Jack Johnson  
>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven<br>Valse Opus 64 'Petit Chen' - Chopin  
>I Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<br>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones  
>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<br>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum  
>Polonaise in g Minor - Chopin<br>Waterfall - Jon Schmidt  
>Give Me the Simple Life - Jamie Cullum<br>Still Love - Holly Brook  
>Rilassamento - Gianni Pavesi<br>The Soldier - PJ Harvey & John Parish  
>What Am I To You? - Norah Jones<br>Innocent - Taylor Swift  
>Frontin' - Jamie Cullum<br>Oh Land - Lean  
>Sonata in D Major for Two Pianos, K. 448 - Mozart<br>The House That Built Me - Miranda Lambert  
>Waltz in a Minor - Chopin<br>Prelude Op. 28 No. 4 - Chopin  
>Too Close For Comfort - Jamie Cullum<br>Let's Just Stay In - Tony DeSare  
>Diana - Paul Anka (1957 version)<br>Where is Your Heart At? - Jamie Cullum  
>It's Not Unusual - Tom Jones<br>Moondance - Micheal Buble__  
><em>You Do Something to Me - Banu Gibson<br>People Will Say We're in Love - Sophie Milman  
>Help Yourself - Tom Jones<br>I Won't Dance - Micheal Buble & Jane Monheit  
>La Vie En Rose - Madeleine Peyroux<br>Everything - Micheal Buble  
>The More I See You - Micheal Buble<br>The Way You Look Tonight - Maroon 5  
><strong>Just Kiss Me - Harry Connick Jr.<strong>  
><strong>Until the End - Norah Jones<br>**  
><em>_


	18. Broken

_**AN Oh, I love writing for Edward and Winry! It's lighter than Royai, but still a really nice relationship. It just feels...like a fresh wave coming in. No clutter, no back story, just them. It's good to write that, sometimes :) Thank you to everyone for your encouraging words! I get ridiculously happy when I read your reviews, it's marvelous.**_

Winry rubbed her eyes with a groan, dropping her pen on her paper. It was the middle of Biology, and the majority of the class was hunched over their binders taking notes, but Winry had found it far more interesting to doodle in her notebook than write about light dependent and independent photosynthetic reactions. Her mind was swirling with all of the things that had happened lately, and she had little interest in re-writing how a plant used sugars and water.

The Biology teacher flipped on the lights, making her jump and scramble to catch the last few things that looked the most important.

"Okay, remember, vocab, everyone _needs to have it in by Friday!_ That's when school ends, I don't care that you were held up at your xylophone lesson, or that the PE teacher didn't let you stop running laps when the bell rang, it better be in the basket when the final bell rings! I've already extended the due date _twice_ so suck it up. Also, the lab write-up is due next week, so don't shirk that off til the day before..."

Winry grabbed up her stuff as the bell rang, shoving it into her bag and skipping out the door to her guitar class. She hummed as she walked the halls, mind still preoccupied.

The Chamber Choir had a concert the day before, and the general consensus was that they had been _awesome._ Just remembering the rush of having sung with her whole heart made her grin. To think that she had thought she'd been grossly misplaced when she'd first come to St. Bradley's. And then there was the fact that she was passing her English class with flying colors. Combine that with the rumor that there'd be a flash mob at lunch tomorrow and Winry was on cloud nine. Not to mention had things had gone with Edward lately...

_Edward._ Winry would never have guessed that a relationship with someone could change so quickly. In about a month, she had gone from not knowing him to disliking him to hating him to being confused by him and then finally settling into an awkward understanding/empathy/hesitant _something _or other with him. In the back of her mind, Winry was wondering if this was all normal and maybe should she be worried about these developments, but she shushed that part and told herself to be happy that things were looking up.

Her guitar class went by quickly, and as Winry left, she once again found herself wishing that the piano was as easy as the guitar.

As she headed to the gym for PE, a girl from her class joined her. They chatted amiably as they entered the changing rooms and slipped into their gym uniforms.

"Did you hear that we're going to have to run the track?" another girl asked, and groans filled the changing room.

"Are you serious? Four laps around the track when it's _this cold_? It's all great for the gym teachers, they're wearing sweatpants and hoodies, but we're wearing shorts and t-shirts!"

"Well, you know what they'll say about that," Winry sighed, pulling her hair into a ponytail. "'If you just ran faster, you'd be warmer!' Like running a little can counter forty degree weather and wind."

"Well, at least it's not raining. Apparently it's supposed to be rainy all next week."

"Ugh, gym teachers!" one girl shouted as they exited the gym, heading to the track, "I'm sick of your crap!"

The laughter that followed quickly turned into gasps as the wind hit them, and they all shuffled over to the track, bouncing and cursing under their breath as the gym teachers gave them a quick pep talk.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we're gonna run around the track!" the female gym teacher said, ignoring the quiet flurry of grumbles. "We _will_ be watching, and will dock points if you violate the following! Four laps, no walking, stay out of the inner two lanes, no cutting out for bathroom breaks!"

"What if our bladder's about to explode?" one boy asked, tossing his hand into the air.

"Well, by that point you had really better tell us so we can call you an ambulance for your impeding kidney poisoning. Alright, anymore questions? No? Okay, on the whistle..."

The whistle blew, and everyone set off, the more athletic kids breaking away while everyone else shuffled along, some slowing to a walk after a few seconds. Winry managed to keep running, but her feet dragged against the surface of the track. She didn't mind exercise as a whole, but running was _not_ her favorite activity.

When she finally managed to four laps, Winry stumbled to a halt by the others that had finished, huffing and bending over. The few that had managed to catch their breath already were making conversation, which she listened to as she tried to regain her breath.

"...mm-hm, and I told him just that. If he wants to stay up playing video games, then he can't complai-hey, isn't that Elric?"

Winry turned at the sound of the name, eyes falling on what was indeed Edward. He had his shoulders hunched as he handed the gym teacher a note, and to her surprise, he was _smiling._ Most of the time, he was scowling (at least, around Winry he was), or had his brows furrowed in concentration. Now though, his expression was lighter and made him seem a bit younger.

_He has a really nice smile,_ she thought, straightening. _I kind of wish he showed it more._

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard of him being in a PE class," one boy said, and another girl nodded.

"Yeah, isn't that weird? I think I heard something about him being exempt because he logs so many hours in the weight room or something."

"Really? They just let him do that?"

"Mm-hm. And I heard a couple of the teachers talking about how he got this special note from his trainer or something that vouched for his dedication."

"Man, that'd never float in a public school. I wouldn't have thought that would work here, but I guess being Van Hohenheim's son gets you stuff."

"You're not suggesting that he bought his son's way out of PE, are you?" another student demanded, glaring at the girl who said it.

"What, no, I'm just saying...being powerful doesn't hurt."

"I personally think that the school arranged it so he wouldn't get into any more fights," one girl whispered, earning shocked looks from the others. "I mean it! Think about it - Edward gets into a lot of fights, still does! Why do you think he wears those gloves? It's to hide how bruised his knuckles are from the teachers, but the other day Maes forced him to help with the set for the play, and he took one off to keep from getting paint on it. I'm not kidding, his knuckles were red and purple and had scabs and stuff."

"So what does that have to do with him not having a PE class?" a boy asked doubtfully, and the girl rolled her eyes.

"Well, he's a total hot head! Just imagine, one day they're playing dodge ball or something and he loses or gets mad because someone cheats and he flies off the handle! Bam, someone's got meat loaf for a face."

Winry frowned at this, turning her back to keep the others from noticing. Thankfully some people looked doubtful, but a few looked convinced at Ed's delinquency.

_Is that what he has to go through everyday to keep his automail a secret?_ she wondered, lips pressed tight in distaste. Then she realized that had she not figured out he had automail, she probably would have fallen in line with that terrible way of thinking. Shame prickled over her, but she pushed it away, thinking.

She was hardly surprised to hear that Edward hadn't taken a PE class, it'd be a nightmare trying to hide his arm while running around, lifting weights and shooting basketballs. A new appreciation for just how far he would go to keep his automail a secret crashed over Winry as she watched Edward speak to the gym teacher. Not only that, but he was also making sure that he didn't let himself shirk responsibilities because of it. He had clearly been working out to make up for not being in a PE class (it was kind of difficult to notice the six pack when he'd taken off his shirt so she could examine his arm), which took some true determination.

Her original thought about Edward returned to her; the more she learned about him, the better the person he became.

_Until he's snapping at me over poor finger diction..._ she thought, a bitter smile on her face.

The period ended not long after, and everyone practically ran to the locker rooms so they could change and head to lunch. Winry grabbed her back pack, hurrying to the lunch room. Today she had decided to pack a sandwich rather than eat the school food, though she usually supplemented her cold lunch with various things from the salad bar, like fruit or a roll. Once she had picked her side dishes, Winry slid into a seat beside Ling, whose lunch tray was piled high. She lightly greeted both him and Ran Fan, unloading her lunch.

"Hey, Winry. Tell Ranny here that it is _perfectly fine_ for me to have four glasses of juice at once," Ling practically demanded. He had clipped his hair back from his face and looked like he'd explained this concept to Ran Fan quite a few times, though she still had yet to agree.

Winry frowned, trying to decide if this was a theoretical situation or not. Something caught her eye and she leaned forward to see exactly four glasses of juice. She gave Ling a strange look, then looked to Ran Fan, who looked a little irritated, arms folded tightly over her chest.

"He's done this all week, at every meal," she said shortly, and Winry laughed in disbelief, shaking her head.

"That's a _lot_ of juice, Ling, but I guess it's better than soda..."

"Ha, see, she thinks it's alright!"

"She didn't say that! Winry didn't say it one way or another, so don't look so smug."

"Ran Fan, Ran Fan, Ran Fan," Ling said, shaking his head gently as he reached over to put a hand on the girl's shoulder, "You are asking me to drink only _one_ glass of juice. Yes?"

"Yes."

"But I've already got _four cups._"

"So?"

"You don't really want me to waste the delicious drinks of this fair land, do you?" He gave her a look of nearly genuine distress, making her roll her eyes and Winry laugh.

By the time Winry had finished her sandwich, they had been joined by Al, Rose and another girl from fourth year. The conversation branched and merged, sometimes including everyone and while at other moments multiple conversations flowed over each other. Lunch was more than half over when someone tapped on Ling's shoulder.

"Mind scooting over?" the person asked, and Winry looked up to see Edward, holding a lunch tray. Ling raised his eyebrows and shrugged, scooting a little farther down on the bench. The people paying attention called greetings to him, which made Edward roll his eyes. Clearly he was not fond of unwarranted attention.

Winry watched him, her interest in him piqued once again. It was like every second he stood before her eyes was a second in which he changed, lately for the better.

They didn't speak directly to each other until lunch was almost power, when Winry made a comment on how quickly everything moved in the city.

"It's like you better go at race car speed, or people will rip your head off!" she said, exasperated while everyone just laughed.

"You'd only hear something like that from a country bumpkin," Edward said, and she shot him a look, noting his tone. It hadn't been hard like in their lessons, and his smile was the teasing kind at a secret joke. She narrowed her eyes, a tight smile on her face.

"Yeah, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Ed?"

He made a face at her as the conversation swished on around them, and she had the feeling that both of them were stifling smirks. Apparently Ed had entrusted her with a little more than some of his back story and the full knowledge of his automail. If Winry had to put a label to it, she would have said that he trust her to...be his friend.

The bell rang and they all scattered, getting rid of lunch trays and trash before hurrying out the door to their next class. Rose walked beside Winry, both of them headed to the second story of the main building.

"So," she said, bumping Winry with her hip, "what was all that in there?"

"What?" Winry asked, genuinely confused.

"You and Ed! Last anyone knew, you two were at each other's throats!"

"And?" she asked, trying to cover her embarrassment that her feud with Edward had been so obvious.

"Well...you guys were, like, _nice_ to each other today. I would have thought you'd be spitting nasty comments at each other the entire time, from the way you talk about him."

"I guess we just got tired of being angry the entire time," Winry said, shrugging a little. "Is it bad that we're becoming civil?"

"No, I guess not," Rose admitted, casting the younger girl a sideways look that said she thought there was a little more to it than that.

The next few days passed quickly for Winry, a haze of practicing the piano, working on assignments for school and fixing up automail. Her current project of working on Edward's leg was exciting, because it was a wonderful taste of home. The people who usually came to Garfeil's usually had durable, less expensive automail without all the special add-ons. Edward's, though, was complex and truly made her work.

In truth, Winry enjoyed working on it so much that she finished it in two days, but continued working, fitting it with a new plate here, changing the wiring there so that by Thursday it looked like she had completely remade it. Then she remembered that she had other customers and pieces she needed to be focusing on and kicked herself as she went into overdrive, trying to catch up on the work she'd neglected.

On Friday, she finally caught a break. Her schedule for the day allowed a precious hour of free time before she had to go to Garfeil's, which she decided to put to use by answering Harry's latest letter. Because of Winry's cramped schedule, she usually only had a chance to write one letter for every two Harry sent. The woman didn't seem to mind, though, as Winry's letters tended to be longer than Harry's.

Winry set out from her dorm, hoping to make the best of the last dregs of sunlight. She trekked across the grounds, looking for a place sheltered from the wind and out of sight (she liked writing in solitude, and people were incredibly nosy at St. Bradley's). After a few minutes of searching, she found the perfect spot, up against a stone wall in front of a rather other of the way dorm. She had never seen anyone go in or out of the building, so she had no fear of being spotted.

She dropped her back and spread out her jacket on the ground to avoid soaking her skirt. Winry shivered slightly, tugging her blazer a little tighter around her and settled down, pulling out a letter.

_Hey Kid,_

_Things have been pretty dull over here, so I'm bored out of my head. The only interesting this is that Cathan guy keeps stopping by the bar, had me convinced he was scoping the place because he was just _there_, for half an hour! I was about to go out and whack him over the head with my broom, but then he came in and asked if I wanted to grab lunch! Imagine that. Of course, I being my usual brilliant self just stared at him and started laughing, right there in front of everyone. The poor guy turned bright red but didn't walk out, bless his heart. Once I managed to get some sense back, I started apologizing (still laughing) because I've never really thought I'd be the girl that just gets asked to lunch. Thankfully, he started laughing, too and we were just cracking up over the bar, everyone staring at us.  
><em>

_Now, about your own boy troubles, I say high five that Edward kid in the face with your wrench. Or you could ask to just switch to another teacher, your pride be damned. They're both options.  
><em>

Winry skipped down the page, a smile on her face even though she'd already read the whole thing. She pulled out some paper, headed the letter and began writing, occasionally glancing at Harry's letter to address things the bartender had said. She had only been writing a few minutes when a voice broke through her thoughts.

"What're you _doing _down there?"

Winry jumped, hands slamming down on the letters as she whipped her head up to stare at the person. Edward stood before her, hand buried in the pockets of a large red coat and frowning in mild confusion and curiosity.

"I'm...I'm writing a letter!" she said, trying to work the defensive tone out of her voice. "Why, what're _you_ doing here?"

"I live here."

Winry made a face at him, about to say that, yes, _all_ St. Bradley's students lived on the grounds, but he cut her off before she even began, turning slightly to jab a thumb at the dorm behind him.

"That's my dormitory."

She closed her mouth, giving a jerky nod and feeling her blush rise a little farther. Could this conversation go anymore downhill?

"So, why're you writing a letter?" he asked, face a little doubtful.

"To keep into contact with a friend from Resembool," she said, embarrassment giving a sharp edge to her voice.

_Stop it, Winry, stop it! Geez, things **just** got better with Edward, don't go screw everything up now! Just...be_ _polite._

"Why's it matter?"

"Well, to start, it's freezing out here, the ground is wet, nobody writes letters anymore and you're ruining your jacket."

She glanced down at her coat, a scowl creeping onto her face. Apparently Edward's critiquing didn't stop in the practice room.

"So what if it's freezing? I'm not going to be staying out here for forever. And screw you, letters are awesome."

Winry almost bit off her tongue, wishing she hadn't just antagonized a boy that could very easily (and already had) make her life hell. There was also the fact that Winry had protested writing letters to Harry, but Edward didn't need to know that.

To her surprise, however, he cracked a smile. He sighed as if asking 'What can you do?' and looked off to the side, not saying anything for a moment.

"Okay, whatever. Stick to your bumpkinish ways."

"Oh, shut up, Ed. You've got just as 'bumpkinish' roots, don't forget. And it's my coat, I can do whatever I want with it."

"Yeah, okay, whatever," he said, shrugging. "Sue me for caring."

Ed turned around and walked towards the dorm, and Winry let out a breath, relieved that things hadn't gone any worse, but a little frustrated that the decent, polite conversation they'd made back in Garfeil's had vanished.

_Still,_ she thought, sagging a little against the wall, t_hings really can work out between us after all._

She shivered, suddenly noticing things Edward had just pointed out. The wind was starting to pick up, and water was starting to soak through the bottom of her coat. Winry scowled, returning to her letter.

_Harry...I have no idea what to think sometimes. Edward...oh my gosh! In the space of a week, everything has just changed. First he was awful and grumpy and rude and everything, but then...I don't even know what. He has automail, Harry! His arm and his leg, and the arm was customized by Granny! Can you believe that? And...I found out about it, and he yelled at me, and I thought he absolutely hated me! And then I fixed his arm during one of the lessons (oh, Harry, I wanted to cry at the shape it's in. What kind of terrible mechanic has he been going to?!), and I offered to let him come in to the shop to get his arm fixed. He took me up on it, and ever since then, we've been...I don't know what ever since._

_All this has made me positive of one thing, though; Boys are stupid. _

_Grah, I just wanna hit him sometimes, and then others I want to run up and say how impressed I am! Like today, I over heard some of the kids talking, and they were convinced he was some roughened thug. And you know why? Because he was hiding his automail. He wears gloves, but people think he's hiding bruised knuckles, and because he doesn't take any PE classes (but man, he makes up for that in the weight room. He's ripped!), they think the school's keeping him out of situations that will make him hit somebody! That's just terrible! Ed weathers that, every day, doesn't comment on it, doesn't show people that he's not really a bad guy, he just...goes on his way, not letting people's opinions change him.  
><em>

Winry noticed a pair of feet walking towards her, and immediately covered the letter with her hands as she looked up towards Edward. He had taken off his coat and blazer, and she could see the dark traces of his automail beneath his right sleeve. He also had a blanket under his arm, and looked a little embarrassed.

"Here," he grunted, dropping the blanket on her lap. She blinked in surprise, then managed to get out a "O-oh, thank you."

He shrugged, a quiet smile on his face. He pushed back his bangs, and Winry noticed the slight gap between his sleeve and glove. A tiny splash of purple broke up the dark grey of the metal, presumably paint.

"It's nothing. I just didn't want to hear you complaining tomorrow that your jacket was all messed up." He turned to leave, calling "Just leave it by the door," over his shoulder.

"Okay...hey, Ed!"

"Hm?" He turned around, expression light, and Winry felt a flutter of embarrassment at having called out.

"That paint on your right hand...It'll come off if you use a little lye and water. It's more porous at the wrist, if that makes sense, the metal has larger, more frequent pores, so it sticks more efficiently. Be careful not to-"

"Winry," he said gently, a smile on his face from where she'd started babbling, "I got it. Thanks for the tip."

"U-uh, yeah," she said, blush coming back. Winry watched him walk back to the dorm, shoulders hunched a little from the cold. A smile of her own was on her face as Winry replaced her jacket with the blanket.

Edward really wasn't the person everyone thought him to be. She remembered the how Maria and Brosch had said he was a 'philanthropist of good deeds', and she could truly see it now, Edward slipping up, helping out and then leaving the moment someone got a break to catch their breath and say thank you. Had he been like that before Mustang had reached out and become friends with him? Winry could also see that one playing out, Roy insisting on sitting by Edward and of course Riza would follow, then people just migrated towards them, Breda, Havoc, Falman, Rose...

Winry laughed a little to herself, thinking.

Maybe he had been broken once, with his mother dead and his father hardly ever around, and, of course, losing two of his limbs. Maybe that tough, mean shell hadn't just been a shell, but had been him through and through. But he had changed, Winry knew that much. Slowly, slowly, so that most people couldn't see...but maybe, if he was allowed to keep changing, he wouldn't be broken anymore.

_**AN OH MY GOSH I LOVE THIS SCENE. I just...I don't even remember when I came up with it, but I did and it was adorable and asdfjkl; CAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE POURING THROUGH THE WORDS? **_

_**All I could think about through this entire chapter was the song Broken by Norah Jones. If I Think, I Love is one of THE themes for Royai in this story, then Broken is like that for Edwin :)  
><strong>_

_Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin_  
><em>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<em>  
><em>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini<em>  
><em>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Danse Macabre - Camille Saint-Saëns<em>  
><em>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven<em>  
><em>I Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones<em>  
><em>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<em>  
><em>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Polonaise in g Minor - Chopin<em>  
><em>Waterfall - Jon Schmidt<em>  
><em>Give Me the Simple Life - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Rilassamento - Gianni Pavesi<em>  
><em>What Am I To You? - Norah Jones<em>  
><em>Frontin' - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Oh Land - Lean<em>  
><em>The House That Built Me - Miranda Lambert<em>  
><em>Waltz in a Minor - Chopin<em>  
><em>Too Close For Comfort - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Let's Just Stay In - Tony DeSare<em>  
><em>Diana - Paul Anka (1957 version)<em>  
><em>Where is Your Heart At? - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>It's Not Unusual - Tom Jones<em>  
><em>Moondance - Micheal Buble<em>  
><em>You Do Something to Me - Banu Gibson<em>  
><em>People Will Say We're in Love - Sophie Milman<em>  
><em>Help Yourself - Tom Jones<em>  
><em>La Vie En Rose - Madeleine Peyroux<em>  
><em>Everything - Micheal Buble<em>  
><em>The More I See You - Micheal Buble<em>  
><em>Just Kiss Me - Harry Connick Jr.<em>  
><em>Until the End - Norah Jones<br>**Broken - Norah Jones**  
><em>


	19. Harmony

_**AN Wow, long wait, but also a long chapter! When I think about it, it hardly seems so long, but it has both action and exposition, so it kind of makes sense. And asfjkl; oh my gosh thank you for all of positive feedback! I feel like I say this at the beginning of every chapter, but I mean it! It's really, really wonderful to read.**_

Winry adjusted the grip on her umbrella, singing softly to herself as she walked down the street. It was Saturday and she had just done a bit of light shopping. The promised rain had come, though not with the fury everyone had claimed it would. One night it had just started, and hadn't really stopped for more than an hour or so ever since. Winry liked the rain, even though it made traveling between buildings at St. Bradley's a pain when she had an armful of books. One unexpected benefit was that it cut the intense cold they had suffered through the last few days, which was always something she'd be thankful for.

She paused in her song, trying to remember the next line. Winry frowned, trying to find it, then started humming when she couldn't remember. She gazed around, talking it the gentle drizzle, the light of the street lamps scattered into yellow stars on the wet street, the picturesque quality of the buildings-

A shout snatched away her attention, and Winry paused, staring around. She strained her ears, trying to find the source, then hesitantly resumed walking. Paranoia bubbled up in her, and she reached into her bag for one of her wrenches.

_Harry may laugh that I carry a set around, but I don't think someone's as likely to try and mug me if I swing one of these things at their head._

More noise came from up ahead, muffled grunts and a couple clangs and a part of her wondered why on earth she was alone on this street when it sounded like some one was getting jumped, or-

Winry stifled a gasp when she realized that the noise was coming from the alley just ahead of her. She bit her lip, heart speeding up as she edged towards the mouth of the alley. What met her eyes was so shocking Winry nearly dropped her wrench.

It was _Edward_, Edward and three other people, all fighting. She stared, open-mouthed as she watched them exchange a flurry of kicks, punches and jabs, completely ignoring the fact that they were in public and it was raining. Two of the people looked to be adults, a man and a woman, while the last was what she guessed was a boy who looked about her age. The woman was standing back, watching, really, while the men fought. The adult had a wild grin and hair gelled straight up, and was wearing a muscle shirt under a vest. The teen had long dark hair that whipped around him as he slammed a kick into Edward's arm. His smile was feral, and it sent chills down Winry's spine.

She watched, utterly transfixed as the three fought, the man laughing as he delivered a set of punches, which Edward leaped away from, sweeping into a kick at the teen. He grabbed Ed's leg, flipping the boy over his shoulder. Edward shouted, she now realized he had been the one to yell before, dropping into a heavy roll. He was panting and his cheek was bleeding, but there was a desperate fire in his eyes, one that said he knew full well that he couldn't just walk out of this. Edward lunged at the boy, feinted left then slammed an elbow into his arm. The other boy blocked, swing up with a punch that Ed managed to dodge, but landed in reach of one of the man's kicks.

Edward gave a sickening gasp that said he didn't have a whisper of breath left, but forced himself to slip away from the man's next blow.

"Is that...all you got?" he panted, backing towards the mouth of the alley. Winry couldn't see his face, but she was positive that he had a big grin on, one that would effortlessly hide his worry. "Please, my little brother kicks harder than that, and he's only fourteen! I expected better, Greed!"

The man laughed like this was some big joke, and shrugged.

"That so? Well, Fullmetal, why don't you just stand still so I can _try a little harder!_" He lunged at Edward, making Winry gasp, hands leaping to her mouth. He ducked under the next kick, whirling and sending his right knee into Greed's back. Ed didn't pause as the man falling forward, face contorted in pain, as the teen sprung at him, attempting to kick down on the bottom of his head. Edward rolled away, barely avoiding having his chin pulverized on concrete, but the boy followed him, punching him in the side of the head.

Winry watched with horror as Edward keeled over, clearly dazed. Edward tried to scramble back up, but he looked like he was moving in water, actions slow and unclear. The other boy sneered at him as he walked closer, taking his time now that his opponent was down.

"Looks like you've gotten soft, Pipsqueak. Maybe if you hadn't been such a scared little bitch and kept fighting us, then you might have walked away from this!"

Edward glared up at the boy, smiling even though his lip was split and dripping blood on the alley floor.

"Awh, stuff your face, Envy. No one wants to hear your damn voice whining on and on except yourself."

"_Shut up!_" the boy, Envy, hissed, delivering a vicious kick to Edward's ribs. Winry felt sick as he kicked Ed again and again, eyes merciless. She was absolutely frozen, unable to move or think anything except '_This isn't real...this is not real.'_

The woman, whom Winry had mostly forgotten about, sighed, rolled her eyes. She had long curly black hair and was wearing a low-cut dress, which revealed a strange red tattoo.

"Envy, please. Don't beat him to death or you'll piss him off and I'll have to listen to your complaining."

Envy turned to snarl at the woman, spitting "So what, you just wanna _let him go?_"

"No," she said, sounding bored with the whole thing as she walked towards him, "I think we should slit his throat and get out of here. We can dump him in the river."

Horrified, Winry seemed to click back in. As the woman procured a wicked looking knife, she knew that she had to do something, _anything._ Winry yanked out another wrench, dropping her bags and umbrella.

_Please, God, don't let me or Ed be killed,_ she thought, heart pounding as she tried to catch her breath. Winry two large steps, pulled back an arm and the flung the wrench at Envy's head. It hit with a disgusting thud and Envy toppled forward. Immediately the man and woman whipped around to stare at her, shock written all over their faces.

_"_Leave him alone," she ordered, trying to pretend that she was brave and didn't want to throw up and wasn't terrified that these people would drop her off a bridge in a bag weighted down with bricks. The woman stared at her, eyes narrowed, sizing her up. Greed was sizing her up as well, though she had the intense feeling that it was in a nastier way than the woman.

Edward managed to strain his neck and stare at her also, eyes wide with genuine fear when he realized who she was.

"Winry, _no!_ Get...get out of here!" he yelled at her, weakly batting his arm as if that could shoo her away. She set her jaw, glaring at his attackers.

"I said leave him alone," she repeated, raising her next wrench so that it was in plain view. The woman cocked at eyebrow, clearly comparing the damage her knife would cause if thrown as opposed to Winry's wrench. "If you touch him again, I'll scream until my voice gives out, and that's _bound_ to get someone running. Now _b__ack off._"

The moment was frozen, tense enough to make her muscles hurt yet no one moved. Finally Greed burst into laughter, shaking his head.

"Awh, Lust, she's serious! Girly over here really wants to take us on!" Winry bit her cheek, terrified this would be his introduction to lunging at her, but he bent over, grabbing Envy by the back of his shirt. Greed hauled the unconscious boy over his shoulder, shrugging slightly.

"Look, you know me, I ain't fighting a girl. You can finish her if you want, but it's on your head."

Just like that, he was leaving. Winry stared in disbelief as he tossed her a wink.

"You're cute, kid. You got spunk. Maybe next time I'll buy you a drink, if Lust don't kill you first." He turned his back on her, tossing a hand up in a wave and began retreating down the alleyway, perfectly cheerful to back out of a fight he could have won in seconds.

Winry shifted her attention to Lust, praying that the woman didn't notice her how her hand was shaking. Lust's eyes shifted from her to Edward, who managed to sit up and scoot back a ways, trying to get to his feet. She let out an uninterested laugh, like she was entertaining a pair of toddlers on a whim.

"You two really aren't worth my time," she told them, dropping the hand that held up the knife. "You're lucky, Fullmetal," she said to Edward, a cold smile on her lips, "If this girl hadn't come along, you'd be a stain on the alley floor by now. Take care until we decide to come back," Lust called over her shoulder, turning back just as Greed had. Winry stared after them, terrified this was all a trick and one would pull a gun and shoot the two of them, but it seemed that they were really leaving her and Edward alone.

Once they had disappeared around a corner, Winry ran over to Edward, dropping to her knees.

"Oh my gosh, oh my _gosh,_" she said, unable to speak above a whisper. "Oh my - Edward, I-I-_oh my gosh._"

The wrench clanked on the ground as Winry pressed her hands to her head, letting out a strained laugh. Adrenaline was pumping through her; she had just faced off what she assumed to be _gangsters,_ and lived to tell the tale! And Edward, she had just watched him engage in a brawl that she hadn't even - _Edward._

She whipped her head around to stare at him, heart in her throat. He stared at her as if _she_ were the one that had just done something insane (which she supposed she had). Winry reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, staring at his face.

"Edward, are you alright? I mean, I just watched you fight, and I was so scared that you were going to get your face beat in, and then when that woman pulled the _knife,_ I thought it was over! Envy, I can't even believe it, he was going to kill you! I mean, that woman was going to kill you, too, but it was horrible, I never thought I'd see something like-"

"Winry," Edward said loudly, eyes closed in irritation, "_shut up._"

She blinked, closing her mouth and feeling embarrassed. Edward gave her a look that said '_That's better',_ then asked "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"I was coming home from shopping," she said dumbly, then gasped when she realized that her groceries were being soaked by the rain. She jumped to her feet and scrambled towards them, pulling the umbrella over her bags before returning to Edward. He didn't seem to care that it was raining, more relieved that he had narrowly escaped his own death. His arms were crossed over his knees, and he hung his head, eyes closed. Winry stepped towards him with a little more hesitation than before.

"Edward...?" she asked weakly, kneeling beside him. "Are you alright, Ed? Here, just...just turn your head, I need to check if you're hurt too bad."

"It's fine," he grunted, eyes still closed. "Just leave it. I'll deal."

Winry frowned, then placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. He sighed then picked up his face, turning to give her a dull look as if to say '_Here, is that what you want?'_ She bit her lip, taking in the bruises on his mouth and cheeks, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead and split lip. Winry raised a hand, pausing a little before touching under his eye. Edward flinched, but she continued, sighing a little in relief.

"Well, your cheekbone's not broken."

"Thank heaven for that," he said sarcastically, and she gave a small smile.

"I...what're you doing here, Ed?" she asked helplessly, staring around at the alley as if she'd find an answer.

"I was walking home, and they jumped me," he said simply, and she nodded blankly.

"Why?"

"It's...complicated. They wanted me to join their gang, and I said no."

"So now they're trying to _kill_ you?" she demanded, staring at him. Edward offered a weak shrug, saying "If they can't have me, no one can?"

Winry burst into laughter, part hysteria, part humor and part relief that they both hadn't died. She was struggling to wrap her head around the whole situation, but one question kept popping back into her head. How on earth did her grouchy piano teacher, the slightly awkward boy from the shop and this...this _delinquent_ fit into the same person?

"Here, come on, we're getting wet," she said, standing up and offering a hand. Ed took it, and she noticed that he only gripped with his top two fingers and thumb. A thrill of worry for the automail went through her, then Winry reminded her that she could replace automail. Edward she could not.

He got heavily to his feet, face tightening in a flash of pain. Winry frowned, but knew that if she commented, he'd only deny it.

"You really need to go to the hospital," she said, walking over to her thrown wrench, but he just made a face, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"It's fine, it's not like I'm gonna drop dead. I've dealt with worse." Winry passed him again as he spoke, dropping her wrench into her bag and picking up her umbrella and grocery bags.

"But that's stupid. Edward, you just got the _crap_ beaten out of you!" she snapped. He looked away, grumbled something under his breath at her concern. She sighed, nodding at him.

"Come on, then," she said, and he started to take a step, then staggered, gasping. Edward cursed, pressing a hand against his automail leg.

"_Wonderful,_" he spat, shifting so that his weight was off damaged leg. Winry heaved another sigh, then went to stand by Edward. He stared at her, confused for a moment before she said "Do you want me to help you or what?"

Ed blinked, then gave a nod. Carefully he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leaning on her to make up for the lack of use of his left leg. They began walking out of the alleyway, her holding her bags in one hand, umbrella in the other, him leaning on her heavily and trying not to aggravate his injuries.

"You're, uhm...handling this well," Edward said after a pause, and Winry turned to stare at him, because her hands were shaking and she was forcing herself to hold her breath every few seconds so she wouldn't start hyperventilating and she kind of wanted to start screaming.

"I guess you could say that," she laughed, hearing the casual edge of hysteria in her voice. Ed's eyes were on the ground as he searched for the next thing to say.

"I...I dunno, I just...uhm...I have a feeling that I'll suddenly start sobbing soon, once the shock leaves," she said, and he sighed, seemingly relieved that the burden of having to start the conversation again was lifted from him.

"I just hope you don't break down on me in the middle of the street," Ed said, and she gave him a wry grin.

"It'd serve you right, getting into fights like that."

"I didn't ask for that!" he said indignantly, voice rising. "Did you miss the 'they jumped me' bit from earlier?!"

Winry pursed her lips, thinking of the way he'd trash talked and continued fighting even when it was clear he was outmatched. Couldn't he have just _run away_, or called for help or something? But no, Winry knew that was ridiculous even though she didn't know Ed very well. There was no way he would turn tail and run, his stubbornness made sure of that.

_You're such an idiot,_ she thought grouchily, sighing through her nose.

"Okay, so why did they jump you? I mean, what got you on their radar?"

"I...I don't know," Edward admitted, sounding a little surprised, like he'd never really thought about it before. "One day Envy just popped up, saying he had a great offer for me - sorry," he grunted, his leg giving out for a moment and making Winry stagger under his weight. She made a sound of irritation, trying to shuffle her bags and umbrella so it'd be easier to walk and support Edward. Wordlessly he reached up and took the umbrella from her.

"Thanks. What...happened next?" she asked, and Edward sighed.

"Then I shot him down cold. They kept at it for a while, and then they decided that they were sick of playing nice and decided to get rid of me if I wasn't going to be useful. In the beginning, Al used to help me out, you know, we'd be going somewhere and those guys, the Ouroboroughs would attack us, and he'd send 'em running. He's a good fighter, better than me, but he kept saying that someday they'd beat us."

"Well, he called that one," Winry said darkly, and he made a face.

"Yeah, well, it was just me this time! And my arm's still pretty broken, and-"

"Okay, whatever. Go on with the story."

They paused at a crosswalk, and an older woman stared at Edward, though they both ignored her. Winry was hardly aware of what was going on anymore, didn't even know what was _supposed_ to happen now. Clearly her relationship with Edward had just taken another change (taking on gangsters seemed to do that), but she didn't know where. Did he expect her to back him in his exploits against these thugs? No, no, that was silly. He seemed to be uncomfortable in even talking about it, and the panic and fear in his eyes had been absolutely genuine when he'd seen her in the mouth of the alleyway. Ed didn't think she'd hold against the Ouroboroughs (she didn't think she would, either), and he wasn't the type to pull others into his problems. So...what did that leave? Where else did they have to go?

"Well, Al got pretty pissed after a while, saying that I _enjoyed_ fighting these lunatics, and that I might actually choose to _join _them." Edward scoffed at this, finding it utterly bizarre, while Winry didn't find it that hard to see. He'd looked a little too comfortable back there.

"But, I laid off the fighting, for him." Winry snorted, not even bothering to look up from the sidewalk.

"For a _while,_" he said pointedly. "I avoided them, I focused on my studies, stayed only with friends - they only pick a fight when I'm alone - and it worked. I was Ouroboroughs free, for about four months. And then Envy started just...showing up. In the grocery store, on the sidewalk, where ever I was, he'd follow."

"And it turned into...this?" Winry had rain falling on her shoulder, but she was too wrapped up in Edward's story to tell him to adjust the umbrella.

"Yeah. There's not much I can do, I mean, I can't just _talk_ to these people," Ed huffed, and Winry nodded, recalling the savagery in their faces. Not exactly reasonable people who could be talked down.

"Does anyone else know how bad it is?" she asked, and he grunted.

"Yeah. Mustang and Hawkeye do. Oh, and Ling and Ran Fan. He actually offered to help me fight 'em, but I knew that I'd be the one that got in trouble if Ling got seriously messed up. And...I didn't want to drag them into that," he added softly, and Winry felt a small smile on her face.

"Roy and Riza?"

"Oh, well, they were nearby when I was trying to get away from-"

"You were running _away?_" she asked, teasing disbelief in her voice. He rolled his eyes and shrugged angrily, saying "No! I was...giving myself time to think. Something. Anyways, I was pretty beat up still, and I thought they were really gonna get me that time, but then Roy and Riza were around, making out or something, I dunno, and then there they were. Riza pulled out her gun-"

"She has a _gun?_" Winry demanded, and Edward grinned, nodding.

"Yeah. She's had it for a while now, license and everything, carries it with her everywhere. Well, when she saw who was chasing me, she pulled it out and said they better back off or else she'd shoot, as it was perfectly legal to defend herself from a couple of thugs. Of course, Mustang just stood there like an idiot and then took all the credit. '_Oh, Fullmetal, I guess you're going to owe me after this'._" Edward's expression of irritation was ridiculous enough to make Winry to start laughing, even though she was hardly surprised. Of course he'd be more upset over owing Roy than narrowly having escaped a couple of gangsters.

Edward blinked, seeming to have realized something.

"We're we going?" he asked, and Winry gave him a look.

"Uhm, back to the school? Since you clearly wouldn't let me call a cab and get you to the hospital."

"No I wouldn't," he said flatly, and she sighed.

"_Why,_ though? You're lucky you didn't break your nose or something, and I bet you that your ribs are bruised."

"What are a bunch of doctors going to do about it, then? My bones aren't broken, I don't have any serious gashes that need stitching, I'm fine. I just have a couple bruises, that's all."

She narrowed her eyes and poked him in the side, making him flinch.

"_Winry,_" he gasped, "_ow!" _

"What, you said you were fine," she said, and he gave her a wicked glare. "So, why don't you go to the school nurse? At least let her-"

"No. I won't do it. I'm...kind of on permanent probation," he said, mumbling the last bit. Winry frowned at him, and he sighed.

"Last year I got in trouble for fighting these guys. The school was convinced I was a part of a gang, and they were even considering kicking me out of the school. As it was, they let me stay, but withheld my pocket watch until this year. I don't really care about it, sure, it buys me some freedom, but it's not as important as everyone says. It's just...Hohenheim made this deal with the school board, saying that I'd be a good boy, and I wouldn't fight again. If I did, they could toss me out."

"Really? That's so harsh!" she said, but Edward shrugged off her concern. They were about a street away from the school now, but as Winry tried turning onto the main road, Edward pulled her back, pointing down the road they were on.

"It'd be better if I went in through a back entrance. Fewer people watching." Winry nodded and continued walking, shifting a little closer to him to avoid the rain.

"I can see their point of view, though," Edward continued, sounding tired. "They're a prestigious school and can't have delinquents running around. They let a lot slide, but not something so public. What if I ended up in the papers, 'Von Hohenheim's son brutally attacked and sent to hospital. Gang activity suspected', naw, they'd never risk it. He had to pull some strings to make it work."

Winry frowned again, noticing how he referred to his father by name. Back in the shop when he'd spoken about him, it had been a cold, impersonal 'my father', like he was forcing the words out. Even now he sounded cold and uncomfortable, like he was forcing himself to be civil.

_Don't tell me that he has problems with his dad, too,_ she thought. Winry's her heart would break if she heard about any more misery on Edward's part.

"Has this ever happened before?"

"No," he sighed, shaking his head. "This is the first time all school year that they've tried to do something. I've gotten lazy."

He pointed out the gate to her, and fished a key from his pocket.

"Got it from the janitor," he said in answer to her questioning look.

"Like..._stole _it got it, or he gave it got it," she asked as he unlocked the gate, pushing it open.

"Go ahead, Winry, assume the worst," he said, rolling his eyes. "No, he gave it to me. Decent guy, you should get to know him."

He shut the gate behind him, then took a breath, looking out across the grounds.

"So...uh, thanks Winry. I was in...uh, I was in real trouble back there. My dorm's over there, so..." Edward turned, trying to walk over to the building, but she grabbed his shoulder.

"Where on earth do you think you're going? Edward, you look like crap and you need help. Come on."

She pulled him after her, Edward protesting.

"\What're you - we're we going?!"

"To my dorm. I can fix you up over there," she said, which made him burst into even more protests.

"_What?!_ Why're we going there, I don't - I'm not allowed in there!"

"You not being allowed to do something hasn't stopped you before, I bet," she said, turning to look back at him. He looked away, flushing slightly as he shrugged.

"What makes you think that you can just 'fix me up'?" he demanded, and Winry shrugged.

"Well, I've read medical books since I was, like, five. My parents were doctors."

Edward's brows furrowed as he processed this, which surprised Winry a little bit. She would have guessed that he knew that from all the visits her grandmother had given him. Pinako liked to talk while working, especially about her three favorite things: automail, her family and drinking.

They walked up to her dorm, Winry digging in her bag for the key.

"You..._sure_ I can just go in there," Edward asked, face flushing a little more.

"Yeah. No one in my section's in here, they're all shopping or at the movies."

Face doubtful, Edward followed Winry inside, shifting nervously as she unlocked the door to her hallway. Once they were in her room, Winry dropped her bags on the desk, kicking off her shoes.

"Sit down," she said, and he dropped into the chair at the desk, looking grateful to be off his feet. She pulled her first aid kit from a drawer, setting it on the desk in front of him.

"Here...can you sit on the bed?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"I don't want to mess up your bed."

"It's fine, really. I'll put a towel down. One sec," she said, then slipped into the bathroom, returning with a fresh towel. She laid it out on the bed then gestured for him to sit down, which he did after a pause.

"Okay..." she murmured to herself, then looked him over. "Can you take off your shirt?" she asked, and Edward's face flushed even more than before. She rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips.

"Edward, please. Look, I've already seen you without your shirt on, or at least partially, and no one's here to see your arm. Don't be ridiculous."

"It's just..." he began, then cut himself off, looking away from her. Winry raised her eyebrows, realizing what she meant.

_This boy..._ she thought in part exasperation and part amusement. Here he was, so injured that his automail was falling apart and he couldn't walk properly, and yet he was hesitant to be attended to properly because it'd be inappropriate for him to take his shirt off in a room alone with a girl.

"Edward," she repeated, and he sighed, shrugging out of his red jacket and roughly tugging off his t-shirt.

It was worse than Winry thought it'd be. There were bruises across his chest from where he hadn't been able to block in time, as well as large splotches on his ribs from where Envy had kicked him, along with angry red scrapes all long his right side from where he'd been pushed along the ground. His cheek had begun to swell, and the blood from his lip had begun to clot in less than appealing ways. She also had the feeling that if she had him turn around, she'd find even more.

"That bad, huh?" he asked, a humorless chuckle in his voice as he watched her. Winry blinked and met his gaze, forcing a smile on her face.

"It could be worse."

"It could be," he repeated, because that was really the only upside they had left to hold on to. It could have been worse.

"Well, hold on. I'll be right back," she said, grabbing the grocery bags and stepped out to the kitchen. Winry hurried to put away the food that needed to be immediately put in the fridge, then opened the freezer and grabbed a handful of ice. She placed it in a hand towel, wrapped it up, then pulled out a bowl and filled it with water. A few seconds later, she was back in her room, frowning as she examined Edward a little more closely.

"Edward, you're such an idiot," she sighed, handing him the ice. She pulled out a cotton ball with a pair of tweezers, dipped it in the water, then began cleaning his lip. He hissed, and she scowled at him.

"Look, you've gotta sit still! I'm sorry that it hurts, but you did this!"

He bit his cheek (whether to keep from snapping back at her or to keep from yelping in pain, she didn't know), and she resumed cleaning him up.

It was quiet work, her silently wiping at his cuts and bruises, applying antiseptic and then placing band aids or bandages over the wounds that were bleeding. The only sounds he made were grunts of pain or quiet sighs as he forced himself to be as still as possible, as well as a quiet thank you when Winry offered a pain killer. When she was done, she sighed and leaned back, proud of her work.

"Thanks," he murmured, then she placed a hand on his right arm.

"Hold on, let me check your automail. Don't think I didn't notice you using it like a shield," she added, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. "_Idiot,_ you're guaranteed to trash it that way!"

"It can take it..." he said weakly, squirming under her glare.

"Yeah, well, you can take that beating Envy just gave you, but it sucks and you don't ever wanna do it again, right?" she demanded, and he scowled. Winry groaned in irritation, then grabbed her toolkit.

"Oh, right, that reminds me. Why do you have _wrenches_ in your bag?"

"It's a habit from back in Resembool. A lot of people have prosthesis over there, and while it's not necessarily automail, it still uses the same basic mechanics. Someone would complain about tight joints, or their arm or leg would break down in the road and I'd help." Winry bent close to his arm, frowning at the dents and scrapes. She quickly fixed the wires controlling his bottom two fingers then pushed herself off the bed, Edward rolling up his pant leg. She held her breath, afraid to see the havoc that had been wreaked on a piece she had just barely reconstructed, but thankfully nothing seemed to be too off. It looked like someone had kicked his knee, though, damaging an inconsequential piece and knocking a bolt loose.

Winry set to work on it, and after a moment Edward began talking.

"So...your parents were doctors?"

"Mm-hm," she said, pulling a plate loose so she could get at the loose bolt.

"They didn't go by Rockbell, did they? I mean, I've never heard of them."

"Oh, no, they didn't. Not officially, anyways. My dad adopted my mom's surname. They're called the Heartily's."

"_What?"_ Edward demanded, jerking and almost kicking Winry in the head. She shot him a look, but he seemed oblivious. "Really, your mom and dad were Sara and Urey Heartily?"

"Uhm, yeah," she said, pushing his leg back against the bed so she could continue working.

"They're famous, especially after the work they did after the Ishvalan War!"

"I know," she said, giving an offhand smile.

"I'm sorry for bringing up tough subjects, but holy crap, you're two generations famous! If people found out, they'd be _killing_ to get on your good side." Edward laughed a little, putting his hand to his forehead. "Why didn't you tell anyone? Was it because you didn't want the attention?"

"Hm? Oh, no, I just...it never seemed important," Winry admitted, blinking a little. She shrugged, and Edward laughed.

"You really don't care about all that stuff," he said, and she shook her head.

"No. Fame is...it's not really important. You just have talent other people don't. Or at least the chances they don't. And you have a lot more money and problems. I don't really care if people are loaded or that they know some famous actor or if they even are one. I care more about what they're actually like. Money has no personality."

Ed gave her a look, a smile on his lips. He pushed himself off her bed, gingerly pulling his shirt back on.

"You're really something, Winry. You fix mechanics, you can patch people up, you're good enough to get into St. Bradley's...I'm glad you don't let that go to your head."

She shrugged, flushing a little under his praise, because there was something about Edward that made her believe everything he said. He was a rather intense person, and he couldn't waste his time on things like deceit or lies. When he said something, or complimented a person like he'd done to her just now...Winry had no doubts that he meant it with every part of his soul. She smiled at him, waving as he left the room and calling "See you on Monday!", to which he waved at.

Winry sat on her bed, staring at her hands and thinking about the last two hours. Grocery shopping to stopping a gang beating to fixing Edward up. When she really focused on it, it made her head spin and panic started to splash up in her chest. Winry had the terrible feeling that she'd have nightmares about the Ouroboroughs for a while after this, the image of Envy's savage grin as he kicked Edward in the ribs over and over and over replaying in her head.

She pressed her hands to her face, telling herself to stop thinking about it.

_Think about something else,_ she thought forcefully, _think about anything else._

Her mind settled on Edward again, his impressed smile as he complimented her. She rather liked that, she realized, the feel of his approval. It wasn't something that she'd mind feeling that again, at the very least.

_**AN Mm, I really enjoyed writing for Greed and Envy (despite their having a total of, what, five lines?) Those sweet babies need so much air time from me, but I don't think I could reasonably write a story where they are major character :'D AND OH MY GOSH I AM SO HAPPY THAT EDWARD AND WINRY'S RELATIONSHIP IS LIKE FULL ON FRIENDSHIP NOW. IT JUST...IT MAKES ME REALLY HAPPY.**_

__Nocturne Opus 9, No. 2 - Chopin_  
><em>California Raining - Madeleine Peyroux<em>  
><em>Hang on Little Tomato - Pink Martini<em>  
><em>Just One of Those Things - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Sonata No. 8, Pathetique - Beethoven<em>  
><em>I Think, I Love - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Love Me Tonight - Tom Jones<em>  
><em>Antebellum - Vienna Teng<em>  
><em>I Get a Kick Out of You - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Polonaise in g Minor - Chopin<em>  
><em>Give Me the Simple Life - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Rilassamento - Gianni Pavesi<em>  
><em>What Am I To You? - Norah Jones<em>  
><em>Frontin' - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>The House That Built Me - Miranda Lambert<em>  
><em>Waltz in a Minor - Chopin<em>  
><em>Too Close For Comfort - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>Let's Just Stay In - Tony DeSare<em>  
><em>Where is Your Heart At? - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>It's Not Unusual - Tom Jones<em>  
><em>Moondance - Michael Buble<em>  
><em>You Do Something to Me - Banu Gibson<em>  
><em>People Will Say We're in Love - Sophie Milman<em>  
><em>Help Yourself - Tom Jones<em>  
><em>La Vie En Rose - Madeleine Peyroux<em>  
><em>Everything - Michael Buble<em>  
><em>The More I See You - Michael Buble<em>  
><em>Just Kiss Me - Harry Connick Jr.<em>  
><em>Until the End - Norah Jones<br>Broken - Norah Jones  
><strong>Brand New Colony - The Postal Service<br>I've Got You Under My Skin - Michael Buble  
><strong>**Can't Buy Me Love - Michael Buble  
>Stray Italian Greyhound - Vienna Teng<br>The Long Way Home - Norah Jones  
>Something's Gotta Give - Sammy Davis Jr.<strong>  
><em>_


	20. Morendo

_**AN This chapter is later than I wanted, but it contains a scene I wasn't quiet sure how to write. And it held a lot of research I didn't really want to do, but then, a lot of chapters require research I don't really want to do. Dorm plans, bruising reference, clearly drawing out the campus/city/other building plans in my head, cobbling together schedules and looking at other material that covers similar subjects to see how other people tackle it, oh my gosh, it's time consuming! Of course, it gets kind of scary for the nastier things, which I treat with the 'NOPE NOPE NOPE' attitude until I ABSOLUTELY need to use it.**_

_**I'm also very flattered by the mass positive response the last chapter got! You guys remarked on things I didn't expect, like how I changed Winry's parent's names, or how it contained an unexpected plot twist, but sometimes you make me laugh. There's always those couple of people who say they're glad something's included, even though it's been repeatedly talked about in previous chapters XD  
><strong>_

_**AND OH MY GOSH IT'S CHAPTER TWENTY BENCHMARK ALERT BENCHMARK ALERT HELLO THIS IS AWESOME. Just so you guys know, this is about the point where we start easing into THE CLIMAX, and then start winding down. NOT SO FOR THIS STORY, NO SIR. We've got a looooong ways to go before that happens, of this I promise ;)  
><strong>_

Edward eased out of his chair, suppressing a groan. It was a few days after his encounter with the Ouroboroughs, though his injuries hadn't really improved beyond some of the scrapes shrinking and a few of his lesser bruises fading from purple to a hideous yellow green.

When Al had seen him afterwards, it kind of felt like all hell had broken loose.

_"_What did you think you were _doing?!"_ he had shouted upon seeing him. Edward had known that Al would have been at the Hohenheim manor, as he usually spent his weekends there, an attempt to spend some time with their father. He hadn't liked the thought of going, and that hadn't been just because he'd had to stagger two blocks until he reached the bus stop, and then had to drag himself a further three blocks. It was more the thought of running into Hohenheim at all. Least to say, he and Edward weren't on the best of terms.

"I was thinking that I was fighting for my life," Edward had grunted, staggering to the informal dining room and dropping into a chair. This was usually where they had eaten before Edward had gone off to St. Bradley's, and many an awkward dinner had passed, the attempts at conversation his father and Al had made doing little to cut through Edward's resigned yet hateful mood.

"Because, you know, the Ouroboroughs jumped me."

Al groaned through his teeth, peering at him.

"Who wrapped you up? Not the nurse, you're on probation."

"Naw, I did it myself," he lied easily, not quite wanting to explain the whole situation with Winry. That felt private, somehow, not something he wanted to share with anyone, not even Al.

He didn't look convinced though, gray eyes narrowed. Edward had shrugged (then winced), and sat through Al's lecture.

"So what're gonna say about your face?" he had asked afterwards, huffing in irritation.

"What did I usually say? I was in a fighting tournament and they hit me in the face," he sighed, and Al stifled a snort.

"With how often you used to use that, it's a miracle people didn't think you were the suckiest fighter in Central," he said, and Edward scowled, letting his head lean back against the chair.

"If I wasn't exhausted and held together with hopes, prayers and band aids, I'd totally come over there and kick your ass," Ed told his brother, earning another snort.

"As if. You know you could never beat me," Al retorted, and Edward just shook his head.

"Just wait. Someday you'll be the one to find out just how much it hurts to be hit in the face with a metal hand, and then you won't be so confident." There was a pause, and then Edward had asked "So...where's the old man?"

"Dad? He's out to lunch with some CEO or something."

"_Figures._ His own kid comes home on the weekend to spend some time with him, and he can't even drag up the will to go see him."

"He's working," Al said quietly, a defensive note coming into his voice.

"He's_ always_ working, Al."

"Did you just come here so you could rail against Dad?" Al asked, irritation creeping into his voice. Edward looked at his brother, scowl turning a little darker.

"No, I just wanted you to know what happened. You woulda killed me if I showed up on Monday with my face looking like this." Al's eyes were sad as he stared at the floor, nodding with a sad smile on his face.

Ed had left not long after that, feeling a little worse than he had before. It was usually like that. Whenever he visited his father's house (Not his house. Edward nor his brother had ever really belonged there, even if Von Hohenheim was their father. Real fathers, dads, actually spent time with kids, and not just a few minutes here and there, or the odd formal dinner), Edward felt his mood darken. Maybe it was because of the seven odd years worth of memories that came up whenever he went through the front door, or because he was wound tighter than a piano string at the thought of seeing his father.

_That place isn't healthy for me,_ he thought now, walking down the hall to head out to the main building for Calculus.

"Hey, Edward!" a voice called once he was inside, and Edward looked around, wishing his eyes would adjust faster so he'd because to see who was speaking to him.

"Oh, hey kid. What's up?" He walked over to the front office where a boy was standing, clad in an elementary school uniform.

"Not much. I'm just waiting for Dad to finish up with work so we can go to lunch!"

"Yeah? Sounds good, Selim."

Selim Bradley was about twelve, and also the headmaster's son. He stopped by twice a month so his father could take him to lunch, and because of Edward's frequent visits to the main office the year before, he had become very well acquainted with the boy. Selim was short and energetic, and had big plans for the world. "I'm gonna live up to Dad's reputation someday!" he'd told Edward once. "I'm going to make him proud!"

He left Selim a few moments later, waving over his shoulder as he headed back up to his math class. The period was uneventful, and he was thankful when the bell finally rang, announcing lunch. Edward left the class, joining the flow of students hurrying to the cafeteria or their dorms. Someone again called out to him, and Edward turned, trying to find the speaker. Maes caught his attention and made his way through the mass of moving bodies, making Edward pause, pressing himself against the wall so the older boy could catch up.

"Hey, I just wanted to say, thanks a lot for all the help you've given the drama kids," Maes said once he reached Edward. Ed shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. He didn't really like being thanked for the things he did, it felt excessive. It wasn't like he was saving a child from drowning in a river or anything, he'd just helped paint some of the sets and hunt down a few of the props for the upcoming play, nothing special. He knew he couldn't actually say this, though, not with Maes. The guy would go on and on and on, looking so thankful it kind of hurt. Edward supposed that was what made Maes such a likeable person, though. He was eager to help out any and everyone, and was so surprised whenever someone did it back.

"Yeah, it just filled the time. Plus I knew that the Colonel would just be a buncha dead weight and slow the whole thing down, and that would have been pitiful." Maes laughed as they left the building, shrugging a little.

"Eh, I don't think it would have been so bad. Riza would have been there to whip him into shape like she usually does, and when he's not schmoozing he's a pretty hard worker."

"Mm-hm. Except he's _always_ schmoozing. Remind me how he ended up painting sets in the first place? Wasn't he swamped with student council stuff?"

"Oh, it was a sort of punishment from Grumman. I think he got caught with some girl at the dance or something, and Grumman went easy on him."

"More than he deserves," Edward scoffed under his breath, but Maes nudged him with his elbow.

"Awh, go easy on him. He's really trying, you know that. Just think about last year."

"Yeah, well his trying isn't going to be worth squat if he doesn't end up headmaster. I'm not gonna start singing his praises until he gets to where he's going, and I definitely won't be wading through that sentimental crap before telling him it's all his fault."

"What a good friend you are," Maes said dryly, making Edward smirk.

Maes left him before Ed entered the cafeteria, saying that he needed to call Gracia and it was too loud in there to hear properly. He waved Maes off, then walked in and got his lunch.

"Awh, there he is!" Denny called once he approached with his lunch tray. Edward rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming next. "So, if you look like that, what'd the other guy look like once you were done with him? Like he'd been tossed to the shark tank?"

"Yeah, sure. Like I'd waste time bloodying him up," Edward said, making the boy grin. Since everyone was under the impression that he frequented teen mixed martial arts competitions, Edward usually received comments like this when he showed up at school with a blackened eye or some other major bruise. Beyond the initial lie, Ed never actually said whether or not he got his injuries from fighting in a competition, so he wasn't actually lying. It was something that comforted him a little bit when he started to think about just how much he was hiding from people.

For a while, the mixed martial arts story had been true. Until he was thirteen he had been a major competitor, but then some coach complained and said that it was an unfair advantage that Edward got to use metal limbs that didn't tire or break nearly as fast as a normal arm. Even now, nearly three years later Edward felt the urge to kick the man in the face. He _got_ to use metal limbs, did he? Obviously the man hadn't realized the hours of pain Edward had gone through from the impromptu surgery, or the months of discomfort and frustration as he retrained his limbs to work. Like he didn't wish he had a normal arm and leg like everyone else.

After that though, Edward had been politely asked to withdraw. The irritating part of it was that there wasn't even a competition set up for people with automail like himself, because there were so many unfair variables attached with each different model. Especially when you thought about how most people would be using models that were tossed off assembly lines, and not meticulously and lovingly crafted to excellence like his own. So Edward had been forced to hit the gym, confined to occasionally sparring with Ling or Al. Still, it provided wonderful cover whenever the Ouroboroughs decided to show up and punch his face in.

A few minutes passed, and Edward managed to work down part of his sandwich and apple, privately wishing he had something softer and a little less brutal on his jaw, like soup or a banana. Apparently the blow that hadn't snapped his cheekbone _had_ managed to bruise the bone quite efficiently, leaving him with pain every time he opened his mouth.

Several other kids joined them, including Winry. She sat down without looking at Edward, not letting a sign that anything special had passed between the two of them. He had to admit, he was kind of impressed with her. Not only was she an excellent automail mechanic, she was also a borderline nurse, good enough to get into St. Bradley's both music and brain wise, _and_ she knew how to keep a secret. And she hadn't been soaked in the politics that went with coming from a rich family.

_If she didn't have a temper, you'd think she was a saint,_ he thought to himself, suppressing a chuckle.

"Oh my gosh, you guys, I have news," Maria said, smacking her hands down on the table. Everyone turned to look at her as she grinned, glancing around at everyone.

"My bike came from the shop yesterday!" she gushed, and everyone cheered.

"Wait, your bike?" Winry asked, a little confused.

"Little Miss Ross owns a motorcycle," a boy told Winry, making her eyes widen. "Mm-hm, yes she does. Trashing the social guidelines and doing it with biker style."

"You own a _motorcycle?_" Winry demanded, and Maria shrugged, still grinning.

"Yeah, I do. I haven't been able to ride it in ages because it's been falling apart for forever and new problems kept cropping up. I'm just thankful it came in today. I've gotta go pick up something from my parent's work, and that's all the way across town and I don't want to have to struggle with a cab or the bus."

"Just so you know, Winry, Maria's kind of famous for her bike," Denny said, patting Maria's back. "The only woman I know that can ride a purple motorcycle and look totally boss, and then look totally girly and ridiculous the moment she takes the helmet off."

"Oh, _shut up,_ Brosch," she said, unable to hide her smile completely. "It was a birthday present from my cousin. I was doubtful at first, but once I actually got to riding it, I kind of fell in love."

Edward smiled, finishing off his glass of juice.

The rest of the day passed by without incident, though Winry walked up to him after seventh period.

"Hey, do you mind dropping my the shop later today?" she asked quietly, and he turned to her.

"I've just been so worried the last couple of days. I didn't really have the tools to make a thorough check of your arm, and I'm so scared that something really bad happened. You haven't been feeling any pain or anything weird, right?" she asked, and he blinked, a little surprised by how sincere and worried she looked.

"Uhm, no, no problem. When do you want me to come? Is there a specific time, or do you just want me to show up?"

"Hm? Oh, I was...actually kind of hoping could come in...now? It's just that I have a bunch of customers coming in later, and I don't want to put it off any longer." He made a face, reluctant to walk so openly to the Garfeil's, but her judgement had been spot on so far, so Edward didn't really feel like he had room to say no.

"Yeah...okay. Let's just go."

"Hey, cheer up," Winry said, nudging him in just about the only part of his ribs that weren't bruised to hell and back, "it's not like people are going to be stalking us all the way there. And if someone does ask, then we'll just say I accidentally took one of your piano books with me and left it at the shop. Easy."

Edward raised his eyebrows, not sure if he should be laughing or absolutely incredulous at her deviousness.

"Don't look at me like that!" she ordered, a giggle managing to slip out as they exited through one of the side gates. "You're the one that's paranoid about other people, and I was just tossing an idea out there! Tell people the truth if you want."

"Yeah, _okay,_" he snorted, rolling his eyes at her. Winry laughed, hiding her grin partially behind her hand. He looked at her, a little amazed. For a person who understood automail like it was some mundane action, like it was blinking or picking up a pencil, and who had the balls to stand up to the higher members of a gang with nothing more than a _wrench,_ Winry really acted like a girly-girl sometimes. Her gestures or way of speaking would turn unexpectedly feminine, sometimes shocking him at the abrupt change.

"Hey, Fullmetal," a voice called behind them, and Edward turned to glare at Roy, who was several paces behind them, walking with Riza. "Don't tell me you're sneaking off with the new girl. She's hardly been here a month!"

"Piss off!" Edward shouted back, rolling his eyes and facing front again. He shoved his hands in his pockets, wishing that his ears weren't burning at the moment. Winry was laughing, which was good, he supposed, but the memory of sitting on her bed, alone with her in her bedroom, _shirtless, _popped back into his head and made it all too embarrassing to shrug off.

"Oh, lighten_ up,_" Winry said, smacking his shoulder.

"_Ow,_" he gasped, grabbing his arm and shying away. Instantly Winry was all attentive worry, eyes huge at the thought of having exacerbated his potentially damaged automail.

"Joke," he said, and she glared at him.

"That's not funny, Ed!" she grumbled, but he only laughed. They kept walking, arguing lightly as they neared the crosswalk. Edward pushed the button, waiting for the light to turn green. He looked down the other crosswalk, tuning out Winry's rather long winded reprimand about crying wolf. Maes had just entered the crosswalk perpendicular to theirs, and Edward raised a hand in greeting.

The next few seconds were surreal, each seeming to stretch on and on, even though it felt like it was all going so fast he couldn't react.

Maes was just smiling, raising a hand to wave back at Edward. A noise rumbled up through the city noise, the sound of a vehicle approaching, and fast. Winry had just cut herself off, beginning a hello towards the boy as a motorcycle shot through the traffic, colliding with Maes.

Winry's greeting turned into a twisted thing, part gasp, part shriek. Edward jerked back, throwing an arm up in front of Winry, eyes fixed on Maes. The biker was several feet away, apparently unhurt though sprawled on the ground. A helmet hid their face, the screen marred by white scratches. They leaped to their feet after a moment, sprinting away from the intersection. People were screaming now, those actually managing to form words shouting variations of '_Call an ambulance!'_ and '_Oh my gosh, is he alive?_' all around them.

Edward looked away, unable to get the terrible image of Maes, so still and silent as chaos erupted around him, out of his head. Winry was clutching onto Edward's shirt with both hands, a small whimper escaping her. He managed to catch her eyes for a second, wide and horrified before she was sprinting towards Maes, dropping to her knees. Edward tore after her, alert for any more careless drivers, but traffic had completely stopped now, people abandoning their cars and gathering on the sidewalks or even out into the street to stare.

"Maes?" Winry was saying in a loud voice, terrified but forced to be calm, "Maes, Maes, hey, can you hear me?"

As Edward dropped down beside the two of them, he noticed that Maes' glasses had been knocked off during the collision, skittering several feet away. Somehow, they managed to remain unmolested. Winry pressed her fingers against his neck, blinking away tears.

_"He's alive!_" she gasped, fumbling in her pocket a moment before pulling out an unused tissue, pressing it against Maes' forehead, which was bleeding freely. A few quiet cheers and some applause went through the crowd, and it struck Edward how bizarre that was. It felt like they were congratulating Maes on being alive, like it was some skill he possessed like playing the trumpet or running or something stupid, unimportant, not a _human life,_ not something that was so easily slipping away while they were stuck, unable to do anything.

"An ambulance is on its way!" someone shouted, and he let out a breath of relief. Edward rocked back on his heels, wishing so much that he could _do_ something that it hurt, looking around at anything but Maes, the surrounding people, the cars with doors hanging open, dinging impatiently to be closed, the road, the bike...

Edward felt a sick lurch in his stomach as things seemed to become a thousand times worse. The motorcycle was Maria's. Purple, with the white stripe decal on the shield for the back wheel. She had shown it to him once, and Edward had been impressed to the point of even wanting one himself. He shook his head, feeling kind of sick.

But there was _no way_ Maria had just hit Maes, no way at all! She was one of the most upstanding people Edward knew, and took rules and regulations seriously. She never would have been speeding through traffic like that, especially not when it was stopped for a red light, and if she _had_ committed this atrocity, she never would have simply run away from it all. No, Maria would have been he first at Maes' side, frantic and horrified at what had happened. But...he'd seen it. The person that had run away was definitely Maria's height and build, even though their face was obscured. Did she have a helmet like that? Edward wasn't sure, he knew she had a helmet, but what kind?

His head spun as he tried to cobble together the truth - Maria had said that she'd just gotten her bike from the shop, had said so at lunch, plain as day. Why on earth would she waste the bike by trying to hit Maes like that? Or maybe her brakes had spazzed out...no, there was no way the mechanics would have missed such a glaring error, not when lives and lawsuits depended on its proper function. _What,_ then? _What could it have been?_

Edward looked at Winry, biting his cheek so hard he was surprised there wasn't blood. She was staring at Maes' face, sounding teary and holding onto his hand like her life depended on it. He supposed that while he had been focusing on the bike, she had examined Maes for any obvious injuries. She was smiling and saying comforting things to the boy, even though he was unconscious. More people were becoming brave enough to step closer, and a man crouched beside them.

"I called the ambulance," he told them. Sirens had sprung up a ways a way, and Edward supposed that they were rushing towards the site, at least, he hoped so. "They said-they said they'd be here in a couple of minutes. Did you...did you know him?"

"Yeah," Edward managed, voice breaking a little. A thought hit him, Edward closed his eyes, wondering if this day could get any _worse._

Roy and Riza had been directly behind them. Roy, Maes' _best friend_ had been just a few feet behind Edward and Winry, and had most likely seen the whole thing.

Dreading what he'd see, Edward turned to look at the sidewalk, seeing the two of them immediately. Roy was turned away, but Riza faced them, looking pained as she gripped his shoulder. She turned her back on the scene as well, saying something to Roy all the while.

"You kids...you should probably get out of the street. I'll stay with him," the man continued, and Winry gave a shaky nod but didn't move. Edward got to his feet, pausing a moment before pulling off his left glove. When he helped her up, Maes' blood smeared from her palm to his.

"Come on, Winry," he whispered softly, guiding her back to the sidewalk. They sat down on the grass between the sidewalk and the wall surrounding St. Bradley's, he resting his arms on his knees while Winry wrapped her arms around her legs. He caught Roy's eye once, and they both exchanged stiff nods, but nothing was said.

It was a haze after that. The police arrived, then the ambulance, Maes loaded up and taken away. People were questioned, sobs started and wild voices were heard throughout the intersection, but Edward blocked it out, going through the notes for all of the Chopin songs he was learning. He stopped when he realized he had wandered onto the Funeral March.

Finally a police officer came over to them, looking serious and sad.

"You two are the boy's classmates?"

"Yeah," Edward said, getting to his feet. "We're classmates of Maes."

"Maes? What was his last name?"

"Hughes."

"The son of Brigham Hughes, the CEO of HueCue Computers?" the officer asked, sounding shocked. When Edward nodded, the man cursed. "This just got about ten times worse...I'm sorry. Maes is intensive care, and his family has been alerted."

"Is he alright?" Winry asked quietly, and the man shrugged.

"I don't know at the moment, miss. His position was precarious when the ambulance took him away, but it was kind of a fluke that he survived either way. Most accidents like this are instant fatalities."

Winry nodded, biting her lip.

"You both saw the accident?" the officer asked, voice losing the quiet tone of compassion it had before. He pulled out a notebook, pen poised to write as they answered his questions.

"Yes," they murmured. The officer scribbled down the answer as he asked then gently to describe it.

"Okay...do either of you have any idea who did this? Did Maes have any enemies at school, maybe?"

"No," Winry said softly, voice breaking. "He was the nicest guy you could ever meet, helping with schoolwork or community service, doing favors and finding time for everyone but himself. No really disliked him, not enough for this." The officer turned to Edward, and he shrugged.

"No, Officer," he said, looking the man in the face. "I've no idea who did this."

When they were finished, Edward walked back to the edge of the crosswalk where he had dropped his bag. Roy was still there, having just finished his own questioning.

"Mustang," Edward made himself say, and Roy turned. His expression was mostly blank, but it held traces of a darkness Edward didn't like. "What'd you say to the police?" he asked quietly. Everyone else had moved away, shepherded away by the police. No one other than Riza and Winry were within earshot.

"I said he was my best friend," Roy said quietly, expression flickering to show such pain that it _hurt_ to look at.

"About the bike," he clarified. "I know you saw it, and that you know whose it is."

Roy's paused, staring at the younger boy with a cold condescension Edward had thought had vanished.

"I didn't say anything," Roy said coolly.

"Good. Because that wasn't Maria," Edward said, and Roy narrowed his eyes. Winry gave a quiet gasp, but didn't say anything. "She said during lunch that she had to go to her parent's work, and that's all the way on the other side of town. And you _know_ Maria. She'd never hurt someone like this, could never even _imagine_ it."

Roy nodded, expression not really changing.

"Then that just leaves me with one question," he said, turning back towards the school. "Who was it, then?"

Winry and Edward walked to Garfeil's in silence. When Winry tried checking Edward's arm, she had to stop because her hands were shaking so heavily.

"Oh, gosh, Ed, I'm sorry, I just..." She trailed off, taking a deep breath and putting a hand to her face. "Can you come back tomorrow?" she whispered after a moment, and he nodded even though she couldn't see.

"Yeah, Winry, no problem. Just...get some rest, alright?" he said, briefly putting a hand on her shoulder. Winry nodded, pulling herself a little straighter in her chair.

"Uh, yeah, thanks, Ed. You too."

"And don't worry," Edward told her as he left. "Maes'll be fine. He'll be okay."

_**AN HAVING STUFF LIKE THIS PLANNED MAKES IT REALLY FUNNY WHEN YOU GUYS SAY THAT YOU HOPE EVERYTHING'S OKAY AND HAPPY FROM HERE ON OUT. THAT IS NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN IN THIS STORY. NEVER.**_**_ I DO WHAT I WANT, AND I WANT PAIN AND LOVE AND SADNESS. THE END.  
><em>**

**_Now go on and let all those feelings out.  
><em>**

**_Also, a note on the playlist! Since it's just long and unruly etc, I'm only going to be adding new songs at the bottom of the chapter, rather than fitting the entire playlist plus the new songs at the bottom. Seems a bit easier that way.  
><em>**

_Somebody's Hero - Jamie O'Neal  
>All of Me - Jon Schmidt<br>We Are Okay - Joshua Radin  
>Firewood - Regina Spektor<br>Happy Talk - Nancy Wilson_


	21. Cosmic Love

_**AN asdfjkl; I think I updated a little sooner than last time OTL WHEN WILL I EVER BE PROMPT?**_

_**So, first of all, thank you so much for the swath of reviews you all sent me! I was so excited to read them all, you guys are wonderful. Second of all, HOW DO YOU GUYS EVEN UNDERSTAND THESE AUTHOR NOTE THINGIES? I swear, I sound nuts during half of them! Bless all of you who consistently read them :'D  
><strong>_

_**With that, onto the chapter! A quick change of pace, I think, but I like it nonetheless.  
><strong>_

Riza pushed her hair back from her face, staring into the mirror. It had been five hours since Maes had been hit by that motorcycle, and yet she felt years older.

Being questioned by the police had been bad enough, but watching Roy go through it all...that had been terrible. He had looked so dead on the inside, so heartless it made her want to cry. She knew what he was doing. Roy often shut himself off when bad things happened to the people he cared about. The year before, when his destructive habits had been tearing them all apart, she had spent most of the year looking into cold black eyes that told her nothing. That was a true kick in the teeth, knowing that Roy really did care, but he was making himself not to protect her.

_He's the only idiot that would stop caring because he cared so much,_ she though bitterly, glancing down at Black Hayate.

"He's out there somewhere, boy," she told him, and Black Hayate stared up at her, tail wagging. "Roy's out there doing _who_ knows what, and it's my job to go find him."

She crouched down in front of the dog, stroking his fur.

"Does it make me a bad person to not want to?" she whispered, recalling the last time she'd done this. Riza had spent half the night searching Central for him, running herself ragged until she finally found him lounging in some park. It hadn't been the bright pink high heeled shoe that had hurt Riza, or the obvious smell of alcohol on his breath, it had been the way he'd looked right through her, like she was nothing. Nobody wanted to be thought of as nothing, no matter the circumstances.

Riza bit her lip, knowing that if she didn't go find Roy, he'd probably end up arrested. It was a miracle he hadn't already, with how _careless_ he was sometimes. She doubted that he'd be venting himself in bed somewhere, which she supposed was some cruel mercy as it her the embarrassment of having to storm the place and drag him out. No, in this case, Roy was probably out setting fire to some abandoned building.

_At least this way he'll be easy to find,_ she thought darkly, standing up and heading to her bedroom. Riza turned on the radio, dialing in to the police scanner. She listened to the dull chatter as she thumbed through her closet, searching for something warm closet. The fall chill had come with a force, and she didn't particularly enjoy the thought of freezing while searching for him.

The person on the radio's voice changed, slightly panicked in relaying a sudden fire that had sprung up. Riza closed her eyes, feeling her stomach sink even though she had known what she'd hear. It just took a little longer than she'd thought, and for some sick reason, it had given Riza hope.

After changing into her favorite turtle neck and pulling on thick black tights underneath her skirt, Riza began packing her bag with her informal kit for Roy hunting. She paused, then went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. While she finished getting ready the water boiled, making her hurry to pour it into a thermos with hot chocolate powder. Riza stirred it, trying to steady herself. She forgotten how much she hated this bit.

When she was ready and couldn't allow herself to procrastinate any longer, she glanced down at Black Hayate.

"Wish me luck," she murmured, slipping out the front door.

Riza tugged her coat a little tighter around her shoulders as her breath bloomed in front of her, catching the orange glow of the street lights. She walked towards the address the police scanner had said, hand clutching the thermos of hot chocolate. Every time she thought about actually meeting Roy her heart jumped, and Riza had to pretend that she herself did not care, that she was the big strong woman that everyone thought she was, the one that didn't feel a _thing_.

By the time she smelled smoke and heard the sirens, she didn't feel too worried. When she saw the figure sitting against the wall of a building, hunched in on itself, she didn't want to start crying.

He didn't hear her walk up, but kept his eyes on the pavement. His hair was a nightmare, like he'd continually ran his hands through it, and even from a few feet away she could smell the kerosene.

"You look like a mess."

Roy looked up at her, and despite what she had herself believing, Riza felt a stab at how empty his dark eyes were, how tired. He laughed, a sound like bones grating on concrete, and shook his head.

"You don't look much better."

"I know," she said, trying to ignore the fact that he had once commented how good she looked in that particular sweater.

She looked on down the road, where cars were starting to get backed up and people were furtively hurrying to turn the block, eager to see the fire. She returned her gaze to him, taking in the ash in his hair and on his coat, which was hanging off his shoulders.

Riza's stomach dropped when she noticed the bottle of bourbon sitting beside Roy, but dragged her eyes back to his face.

"I didn't drink any," he said, looking off towards the direction of the fire as she had done moments before. Smoke swirled around them, catching the lights all around and making the air thick.

"Couldn't, actually. I wanted, I really, _really_ did, but...couldn't take that first sip."

"Boubon's not really the kind of thing you sip from," she noted dryly, and he cracked a worn smile, like he was saying that he didn't even care anymore.

Riza sat down beside him, even though she was wearing her best peacoat, and she was worried about putting a run in her tights or staining her skirt, because what Roy really needed right now wasn't a few tough words and an insistence he go home. He need someone to understand, for once.

"Here," she said, holding up the thermos. "You could try sipping on this."

"What is it?" he asked, reluctantly taking it when she didn't answer. He opened the lid, scoffing a little when he caught scent of it.

"Hot chocolate, Riza? I'm not five anymore."

"Doesn't matter how old you are, hot chocolate soothes the soul," she told him, feeling the silent chuckle come from him. Riza gingerly picked up the bourbon bottle, wondering how he'd even gotten it in the first place and moved it to the other side of her. She felt Roy's eyes on her, but she didn't care. She was sending a message right now, loud and clear that she was _not_ going to deal with him being drunk off his ass, not today.

They were quiet for a little while, just listening to people's lives spin on and on and hear each other breathe.

"Riza," he said after a while, "Riza I _hurt._"

He leaned his head against the wall behind them, and she closed her eyes, listening to him talk.

"I don't even know why I'm doing this anymore. I don't know why I'm doing _anything._ I just...I want to stop having people rely on me, and stop being responsible. I feel like I'm gonna choke most days, and then today-" Roy cut himself off, unable to say the words. He rested his head on her shoulder, whispering softly.

"It doesn't help that I've dug myself a grave with all this drinking crap, and then the girls...and Riza, I don't want to lay down in it. I would give nearly anything to avoid it, but I don't see how I can. Riza...what do I do?"

"Well," she began, trying to work past the lump in her throat, "you keep breathing. One breath at a time, until you get past the day. And don't rely on only yourself, don't you dare," she said, voice hard as she reached down and took his hand in both of hers. "You're gonna crack if you do it like that, and Roy, that's nothing I _ever_ want to see."

He looked at her, some unreadable emotion in his eyes, but that was fine with her because it meant he was finally _feeling_ again.

"What did I ever do to deserve a person like you in my life?" he asked softly, and she shrugged.

"Messed up enough to require someone to haul you back into line," Riza said flatly, causing him to crack another worn grin.

"I don't want to mess up anymore, Riza. I can't tell you how _hard_ it is, walking around some days and not knowing what happened the night before until someone slaps me for it," Roy told her, and he sounded so honest and frustrated it made her want to cry. Immediately she thought of that night he had gone to that party, and then gone to her house...

Did she dare tell him? Did Riza want to open that door and let in whatever was left to walk in and trample on them further?

If she didn't, though, if she kept it quiet and locked inside and out of Roy's sight...it would kill her. Riza had been doing such a marvelous job of hiding just how much it was eating her alive inside that she had somehow managed to forget over the last few days, when everything was happy and okay. But now it was pushing at her seams, and she doubted that she'd be able to hold on to it for much longer.

"Roy," she began, voice shaky. Riza licked her lips and closed her eyes, forcing the words out. "Roy, there's...there's something I need to tell you."

"What?" he asked, an edge of worry in his voice.

"Roy...that night you went to the party, I don't know if it's really important or not, but I've got to tell you. You didn't just...walk in and then have me kick you out."

"...What happened, then?" Roy asked, truly wary now. Riza didn't want to push any more unhappiness on him, but if things were going to move on between them, he had to know.

"You came in, and...you kissed me."

Roy stiffened, holding his breath as he waited for what came next. He knew that that can't have been it, something so minor wouldn't have bother Riza like this. Something truly bad must have happened, and he was already willing to hate himself for it.

"When I asked why," she continued, opening her eyes but keeping them on her knees, "you said...you said it was just one of those things."

Riza made herself look at him, take in the shock on his face. He stared at her, utterly confused and shaking his head slightly.

"That's why I kicked you out, because I didn't want to stay there with a person who didn't care about me. Now, I just want to know...before we go on and do more stupid stuff that we'll laugh and groan about later...did you mean it?"

He opened his mouth, clearly trying to find the words. Riza waited, breath bated, hoping, _praying_ that he'd say no.

"Riza," he started, voice low and clear, and she had the terrible thought that maybe he was saying this for himself as well, to convince him that he really cared and therefore avoid a bullet somewhere painful, "look at me and tell me you think I don't really care about you."

"Did you mean it then?" she repeated, needing him to answer outright. Her voice was trembling and low, and for once, she didn't hate herself for coming off as weak, because she really needed to know and had made herself sick from trying to puzzle it out on her own.

"No, Riza, no, I never could. I have no _idea_ why I said that, but...it never meant I don't care about you. Maybe, and don't punch me for saying it, but maybe I meant it was just...one of those things that was so obvious that I didn't think it needed explaining."

Riza bit her lip, on the verge of laughing and crying. A weight had been yanked off of her shoulders, and even though things were still terrible and hearts lay broken across the street, Riza felt a thousand times lighter, like she could start flying if only she spread her arms.

"...What'd you do in response to that? You can't have been nice about it," he said after a moment, and she shrugged, suddenly embarrassed.

"I...uhm, I kind of threw a beer can at you."

"_What?"_

"Yeah. I just...I was so upset and confused that I grabbed one of those cans you brought and hurled it at you."

"Was _that_ what hit my shoulder?!" he demanded, looking so outraged for a moment that should couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes, but if it makes you feel better, I was aiming for your head," she said, shrugging as if that would erase the fact that she had chucked something at his head. Roy stared at her open mouthed, unable to speak for a moment because he was so dumbfounded.

"You realize that left a bruise for _two weeks,_ right?!"

Riza shook her head, still laughing. She rested her head on his shoulder, laughter dying into giggles. She looked at their hands, fingers entwined like they would never let go. That was an image she liked, them never letting go of each other.

_**AN Even though Roy and Riza have sorted out the majority of their troubles, they still have difficulties to over come, and that's something I like about their relationship. After one more chapter of them, we'll head back to Edward and Winry, where the fireworks are just starting to be lit ;)  
><strong>  
>I'll Be Your Baby Tonight - Norah Jones<br>Lonestar - Norah Jones  
>Fidelity - Regina Spektor<br>Dream a Little Dream of Me - The Mamas and the Papas  
>Cosmic Love - Florence + the Machine<br>I'm Shakin' - Jack White  
><em>


	22. Roll Away Your Stone

**_AN YOU GUYS SCREAMING SCREAMING IT'S BEEN OVER A YEAR SINCE I'VE PUBLISHED THIS STORY OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH. THINK OF HOW FAR WE'VE GOTTEN, HOW MANY THINGS WE'VE SEEN. THE HEARTBREAK. THE FRIENDSHIPS. THE MUSIC. ASDFJKL; THIS IS SO EXCITING.  
><em>**

**_I wish I had updated sooner, so I could get it right on the anniversary, but that just didn't happen :'D  
><em>**

**_A lot of people commented on this, so I'll just straighten it out for people who didn't ask: Roy is most certainly a pyromaniac and set that building on fire last chapter. I've hinted at his pyromania throughout the story, but just so we're clear, that's what he does when he's really, really angry.  
><em>**

The hollow thwack of the tennis ball against the board was a beautiful sound to Riza's ears. It was a half forgotten lullaby, one she'd been forced to give up when she'd injured her ankle. Now, though...a little physical pain was better than drowning in all of this emotion.

Just when she'd fixed things with Roy, when things seemed to be turning _good, _where everyone was happy and she might actually be able to get what she _wanted,_ tragedy had yet again stood on her doorstep._  
><em>

_Thwack._

Maes had, thank the stars, stabilized. For the first couple of days when he had been in surgery and his condition was tricky at best, everyone had been walking on glass. No one really wanted to talk about it in front of Roy, and in relation, Riza, which was a small relief. She could still tell Roy was worried about it, though, could tell from the darkness in his eyes and the way his smiles always seemed so broken.

_Thwack._

Once Roy had received the call from Maes' parents saying that he had finally stabilized, Roy had relaxed a little bit. Riza had been with him when he'd picked up the phone, waited so, so quietly when she'd heard who was calling. They both knew that only two things could come from this - either Maes had died, or he had lived. She had bitten her lip, closed her eyes and begun _praying_ to whatever was out there to let the boy live. Roy's face had been tight before she closed her eyes, fear and pain so, so clear even though he was in profile. The next moments of Riza's life were the toughest by far as she listened to Roy's conversation.

"...Yes, yes, thank you for telling me, Mrs. Hughes. You...take care of yourself, alright?"

Then a pause, not even a breath breaking the silence.

"He's better."

Riza's eyes had snapped open, and she felt just as breathless as Roy sounded. His smile was short and strained, but so, so relieved. Roy leaned over, resting his elbow on his knee, hiding his eyes with a hand. Riza hadn't hesitated in holding his other hand when she saw his shoulders shake.

_Thwack._

Of course, that hadn't been enough. Roy couldn't merely be content that his best friend in the world was going to live, no, he had to wonder about the circumstances surrounding the accident. Riza had to admit it _was_ suspicious, though. People didn't normally survive a motorcycle-pedestrian collision. According to the doctors, the only reason Maes had lived was that the driver hadn't been on the bike, steering it when it had struck. The person had thrown themselves from the bike, though the reasoning was a mystery. That wasn't what bothered Roy, though. It was the fact that someone had gone through the hassle of making themselves look like Maria.

If that wasn't questionable, then Riza would smash her own violin.

Riza strained to hit the tennis ball as it bounded back at her, but stumbled. She missed, swearing, then grabbed a new one.

_Thwack._

Despite the fact that no students other than Roy, Edward, Winry and herself had seen the accident, rumors were rumbling across the school. She had heard that people had asked Edward on several occasions, which had ended with him threatening to break the person's nose if they kept up acting like an insensitive ass. Riza had never felt so proud of the kid.

To make matters worse, though, Maria's parents had removed her from school. The day after the accident, she was absent from all of her classes with only Denny's word that she had taken an impromptu trip to her aunt's in West City to fill her place. Apparently word had reached them that Maria's bike and someone fitting her description had been the cause of it all.

_Thwack._

The one thing that Riza truly dreaded was having to see Gracia. From what she'd heard, Roy had insisted to tell her himself. He hadn't mentioned anything to Riza, but Jean had told her that Roy had stayed on the phone with Gracia for half an hour as she cried.

A lump had risen in her throat when her mind jumped to a terrible, terrible thought. What if, instead of Maes, that had been Roy? What if she had been like Gracia, and only found out days after the fact, in another city, by something so impersonal as a phone call?

She had been quick to smother that thought where it sat.

_Thwack._

Riza grimaced as pain sprang up her leg, and she nearly fell. She paused, bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. _  
><em>

"Hey, Riza!"

She wheeled around, surprised to see Roy.

"Oh, hey," she puffed, nodding at him. "What're you doing here?"

"Just came by to pick you up."

"Excuse me?"

"I knew you'd be hammering yourself about now, and I thought a little ice cream would be nice." He grinned at her, and Riza forced herself to not go searching for the sadness in his face.

"That's not exactly recommended after a work out," she said, and he shrugged.

"So is playing on a partially busted ankle," he pointed out, making her roll her eyes.

"_Fine,_" Riza sighed, walking over to get her racket case.

The walk to his car was kind of awkward, to say the least. Riza wasn't entirely sure if this counted as a date, and therefore had no real idea about how to act. And then she began wondering if Roy was doing this more to keep himself out of trouble or because he was genuinely worried about her.

_It's fine either way, I guess,_ she thought, dropping her rackets off in the back of his car. Riza sighed as she got into the car, buckling herself in.

"Whoa, what's up?" he asked, making her jump slightly. Riza turned to look at him, confused.

"You know, that huge sigh you just heaved? That's not typical Riza behavior."

"And what's my typical behavior?" she asked, a small smile lifting her lips.

"Aw, you know. Totally stoic and professional towards people. Until you see someone do something totally ridiculous and then you make this little face that I don't think people usually see. It's like..." he paused, searching for the words, and Riza waited, surprised that he had memorized one of her expressions. "It's kind of like you're laughing at them on the inside. One side of your mouth lifts up, and then one eyebrow drops down, just for a second."

"Really?" she asked, and he nodded, eyes not straying from the road.

"And then there are those times when someone says something _so stupid_ that you can't help but cast me this look, like you're saying 'Do you _see_ what I'm having to deal with?' It's kind of amusing."

"Ah-_huh,_" she said, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. "You're making me sound like some cold, heartless...I don't even know what, which isn't true and you know it." Riza lightly punched his shoulder, which made him cower mockingly.

"You realize that I could have totally lost control of the car just now and swerved to all of our deaths?"

Riza made a face, quietly thinking that this was wandering a little too close to Maes for her liking. Still...she felt flattered and a little embarrassed that Roy had been paying so much attention to her. Then she wondered what she'd been doing when she'd thought no one was looking. What if he had seen her adjusting her skirt, or picking at her face?

That was about when Riza told herself to shut up and not think about something so mortifying.

About a minute later they were pulling into the parking lot of a small ice cream parlor. The two of them got out, chatting about something inconsequential, something safe. The inside was small and cute, reminiscent of the 1950's. Pop music from the last handful of decades was playing, all peppy beats that brought to mind brightly dressed teens grinning as they bounced around town.

Riza again found herself practically staring at Roy, examining him. She told herself to stop trying to find sadness when she didn't want to see any, but it was hard. Riza then began worrying if she was checking him out, and if that was allowed now that they had progressed on to...whatever it was they had progressed on to.

At this point, Riza practically had to restrain herself from repeatedly banging her head on the parlor counter.

A perky blonde girl stood behind the counter, tag bearing the name 'Tabitha'. She bounced slightly in time to the music playing in the parlor, flashing them a wide grin.

"Hi!" she said. "What would you like today?"

"Eh...I think I'll have chocolate in a sugar cone, and Riza...?"

"Uhm...I'll have the cookie dough."

"Oh, good choice. What kind of cone would you like?"

"A sugar cone, please,"she said, and Tabitha nodded.

"Yeah, one sec."

She popped into the back, and Roy leaned over to Riza.

"Thank you for not going with your usual waffle cone dipped in chocolate, covered in almond thing."

"Like that's going to put you in the poor house, Mister Tightwad. I got a sugar cone because a ton of ice cream after a work out is _bad,_" she muttered, rolling her eyes. Her lack of empathy probably had to do with the fact that Roy was due to come into _two_ mass fortunes the moment he turned eighteen.

Roy's eyes suddenly widened as he snapped his hand up to her shoulder, a look coming onto his face that she didn't really like. She stared at him, confused for a moment before she heard the music.

"_...Let's get physical, physical, I wanna get physical, let's get into physical, lemme hear your body talk..."_

_"Riza,"_ he said, and Riza's eyes widened as she said "_No,"_ almost before the words were out of his mouth. Her stomach was already sinking with dread, and she hadn't even heard him speak yet.

"We've _got to,_" he told her, already grabbing her hands and beginning to dance. She strained against him, shaking her head.

Riza kind of hated dancing. She may have been good at sports and was able to handle her body very well, but utter horror filled her at the thought _dancing_ in front of people. She was definitely the type to man the refreshments table or make small talk over on the dance floor. The only reason she had dared the dance floor at Halloween was because she had been so absolutely giddy over her solidified relationship with Roy. This was entirely different.

"Roy, I'm not doing this, _I swear,_ if you don't..."

He was grinning though, and his smile was infectious. Roy began to sway back and forth, nodding at her to dance with him, and she shook her head, trying to bury the giggles working their way out of her chest.

"Come _on,_ Riza," he said, just loud enough for her to hear over the music, and she gave in, letting him swing her around the open space of the ice cream shop. Her giggles turned into full-fledged laughter as they rocked back and forth, forgetting everything for a moment.

The song ended a few moments later, and Riza rested her head on his shoulder, shaking her head.

"Roy, you _jerk,_" she murmured, which earned a laugh.

"Oh, you love me for it," he said in her ear, which made Riza freeze. Were they allowed to say that now?

"Oh, my _gosh,_" a voice said, making Riza jump. Tabitha had returned with their cones and had apparently caught the entirety of their impromptu dance session. Riza was just beginning to feel the blush spring into her cheeks when she said "You guys are _adorable!_ Don't you ever change, okay?"

Riza shuffled her feet while Roy grinned, nodding as he took the cones Tabitha handed him. She sighed to herself, seeing how easily he took the whole situation and wishing she could do the same. Riza dealt with people, Roy handled them.

A couple of minutes later they were climbing into his car, eating their ice cream.

"This is the _only time_ you get to bring food into my car," he told her, and she grinned. The tension from before had vanished, which she was utterly thankful for. Riza loved being able to talk to Roy and not having to constantly worry about the double meaning that might layer their words.

"Where're going?" she asked eventually, and he shrugged.

"I dunno. I'm just driving for the moment. Do you need to go back to the gym?"

"No...oh, wait, yeah. I left my phone in my locker."

"Alright, we'll head back there, then."

She smiled in thanks, settling back in her seat. They had both finished their ice cream by the time Roy pulled into the parking lot, though they both paused for a moment, just sitting there.

"Thanks for the ice cream, Roy. I guess I needed the break more than I thought I did," she sighed, and he grinned.

"What can I say, I guess I just know you better than you do."

Riza unbuckled, climbing out of the car and moving to the back to grab her rackets. To her surprise, Roy had got out of the car as well, opening up the opposite door to the back.

"What're you do-" she managed to get out, and then he was grabbing her wrist, pulling her back into the car. Riza let out a little yelp as she fell in, disoriented as Roy reached over her and shut the door. She blinked at him, confused for a second as to why they were both now sitting in the backseat.

"Hold on a sec," he said, an irresistible grin on his face as he leaned in, kissing the corner of her mouth. "You didn't exactly say good-bye."

She laughed, turning to kiss him back, but a part of her was protesting. She knew that if she didn't reign it in now, things might get messy...but she had to admit, it was kind of wonderful having Roy press against her like that, kissing her mouth, her jaw. His hands were on her waist, and Riza forced herself to keep her hands pressed against his back and not winding into his hair. That would _not_ lead them to good places.

"Roy," she managed as they both slipped down, practically laying on the seats now. She shifted, allowing her rackets to drop to the ground and out from under her back. He grunted into her neck, something she guessed meant he was listening.

"What are we doing? We're in a _public place._"

"It's not against the law to kiss somebody in public, now is it?" he whispered in her ear, which sent wonderful shivers down her spine. A part of her was begging the practical side to shut up and just _kiss,_ but she simply couldn't. She tried to assemble her thoughts as Roy kissed her on the mouth again, hand pressing against her hip, fingers splaying over her bare side as her shirt rode up. Riza attempted to keep herself from reciprocating, from kissing back or pulling at his shirt, which she thought she did an alright job with.

_Riza!_ she finally snapped at herself, _What the hell do you think you're doing?! This isn't how you normally act, ripping of a guy's clothes in the back of his car. Stop it!_

She steeled herself, turning her head away.

"Roy, please stop," she said as forcefully as possible, making him pause.

"What?"

"Just...hold on a sec. I don't want..." She swallowed, shifting slightly, pushing her shirt back down and trying to think of how on earth she was supposed to finish her sentence. He stared at her, looking so, so worn, something that tugged her heart down to her shoes.

"I don't...I don't want to turn into one of those girls."

"I - what?" He stared at her, looking confused as he sat up. Riza closed her eyes, both glad and regretting she had said anything.

"Don't...make me into one of those girls you always end up with. The ones who wear the heavy makeup and show of their bodies and get with guys because they've forgotten what it means to really be cared for."

"Riza, I'm not-"

"How do you know that, Roy?" she demanded, desperate for him to understand. "Look, we've barely started dating and yet you're already making out with me in the back of your car. Roy, do you really think things _aren't_ going to escalate from here?" He scowled, clearly about to say that this wasn't just his fault, but she raised her hands.

"Hold on a sec, let me...let me get my words together. We...we can't do this, Roy. If we keep on doing things like this, allowing ourselves to be tossed into situations we don't want to be in...where I'm going against what I feel is right, how long is it going to be before I stop feeling that it's bad?"

He looked away, not saying anything for a moment. He sighed, and in that moment when he let his guard down, Riza could see how tired and hurt he was. Sudden understanding crashed over her, and Riza just about kicked herself. In her desperate attempts to keep herself from dwelling on how Roy was coping, she had blinded herself to just how desperate he was. If she was right, and she was certain, then he was just about choking on unhappiness, unsure how to deal with it.

"Do you think I'd really do that to you, Riza?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Not intentionally. Just like you didn't intentionally do this to make me uncomfortable, you just...didn't think."

"What?"

"Roy...you didn't do this because you really wanted to kiss me, did you? You did it to forget."

"Forget _what?"_

"Roy, please! You're hurting more than you ever have before, and you automatically fell to one of your typical remedies. Sex or alcohol."

"How do you know?" he demanded, voice sounding tight like he'd managed to forget Maes for a moment. But then, she supposed that had been the point. "How do you know what I'm feeling? What if I really did just want to kiss you for no reason other than because I _like_ you, Riza?" He looked so, so frustrated with himself and his terrible habits and pretty much everything in the entire _world,_ that Riza could barely stand it. She leaned over and hugged him, holding him tight like she was holding his world in her arms, like she was the only thing between him and completely cracking apart.

Roy pressed his face into her neck, arms holding her so tightly like he thought he might fly away. Riza was his anchor in all of this, his one constant that kept him on the ground, this she knew. She closed her eyes when she felt the soft warmth of tears on her skin.

"It's alright, Roy," she murmured, tears springing to her own eyes as well. "It's alright, everything's gonna be okay. We'll just..."

"Keep breathing, a breath at a time?" he asked, voice breaking. Riza gave a small laugh, nodding at her own words.

"That's right, day after day, we'll keep breathing. And he'll get better, and you'll get better, and I'll get better, and this'll just be a bad dream."

As they sat there, trying to choke down breaths, Riza realized just how badly she needed that day to come.

_**AN SOOOOOOOOB THIS LAST SCENE IS SOMETHING I LOVE. It popped out of nowhere a while back, and then it just took wings. The last little bit I did by the seat of my pants, but I think it was lovely nonetheless. I also got to incorporate the ice cream parlor! That's something I really like, even though it's silly and just a lot of fluff :) **_

_**Oh, and for those who want to go listen to Physical by Olivia Newton John, DON'T YOU EVER WATCH THE MUSIC VIDEO. I was sufficiently disturbed by the first thirty seconds, that's all you need know.**_

_**Next chapter has some Edwin!  
><strong>_

_Rama Lama Ding Dong - The Edsels  
>Angel - Jack Johnson<em>_  
>Roll Away Your Stone - Mumford and Sons<br>If the Stars Were Mine - Melody Gardot  
>Fever - Michael Buble<br>The Calculation - Regina Spektor  
>Crazy Love - Michael Buble<br>_


	23. Crescendo

**_AN *CUE THE PUKE OF SHAME* ASDFJKL; IT'S BEEN EXACTLY ONE MONTH BUT I'VE HAD NO WRITING TIME FOR THIS STORY AND SCHOOL AND COLLEGE CLASSES AND RESPONSIBILITIES ON MY WEE LITTLE SHOULDERS. AND A WHOOOOOOOLE LOT OF THE WALKING DEAD. I would apologize for spending all my free time on a nonsensical TV show that I had previously scorned and railed against, but I feel absolutely zero regret for loving zombie slaying badasses :T_**

**_ON A RELEVANT NOTE. FINALLY AN EDWIN CHAPTER. The Royai is taking a back burner for a while, while we develop the plot and the Edwin relationship a little further. I don't really know what on earth is in this chapter, I set my hands on the keys and prayed that whatever I wrote was half way decent and wasn't just a restatement of what I've written before. So, in short, I can not vouch for the quality, but I hope you still enjoy it._**

The cold air made Winry shiver as she ran through her bag one more time. She was standing in her dorm, about to head out Garfeil's, but had just opened the window to air out the room while she got ready. Winry closed it, making sure to lock it behind her. She had a terrible habit of not doing that every time she left the room, and kicked herself accordingly each time she came back to find it unlocked.

_You're not in Resembool anymore, so don't act like no one's gonna come in here and steal everything you have_, she told herself as she pulled on her coat, then left the dorms.

The skies were dark and surly, promising buckets of rain over the next few days. Winry sped up, pulling at her hood and wishing she had thought to bring an umbrella. She slipped out of the grounds using a side gate, looking around.

She really loved this part of Central, with its picturesque shops and alleyways. Everywhere she looked there was something special to look at, a shop or a stand all selling something wonderful. Not an inch of space was wasted on these streets, everyone pushing up against each other to sell their product. Thankfully the crowds were thinner now, so she could walk without having to stand around or push past people, something that was a near impossibility on a Saturday afternoon.

Winry put her hands in her pockets, humming a song she had heard on the radio. It was always strange to listen to the latest pop song about love and partying with peppy vocalists and overwhelming synth when she was absolutely immersed in classical music, with terms like _'six-eight time signature'_ and '_molto dolce' _bouncing around her ears. She smiled to herself as music spilled from one of the open shop doors, something jazzy with lyrics involving chicks and gingham gowns.

She settled into her coat, looking down at the ground and listening to the chatter all around her. People were talking about bills and ridiculous family members and the latest action flick. As she kept walking the crowd slowly thinned out, splitting off into the shops all around them. Eventually Winry was walking down the road alone, with exception of a person farther down the sidewalk.

Winry blinked in surprise, recognizing the long blonde hair and perfect posture, even when he was away from the piano bench. Edward hadn't noticed her yet, seemingly lost in thought. He was standing under a streetlight, staring up at it and singing softly to himself. His hands were in his pockets and his red jacket was hanging open, despite the fact that the wind had picked up.

A thought hit her, one she didn't especially like. How was he expecting her to act, after their last couple of interactions together? Things had gone from bad to okay to good to awkward in just a few days, in ways Winry would never have predicted.

Winry had been a little cautious around Edward after saving him from the Ouroboroughs (the thought that _she_, Winry Rockbell, had saved someone from _gangsters_ still made her head spin on some days), as she didn't know how he would respond. Would he act stand offish seeing his 'moment of weakness', like he had after her seeing his automail, or would he act like nothing had happened, or what? In the end, Edward had been a little more friendly, though he never alluded to just what had made him more amiable towards her. And then, with Maes...

Things had been hectic surrounding Maes' accident. Some sort of special bond had formed between them, something that could really only be caused by some traumatic event. He had been the person beside her after Maes had been hit, the one to help her up and guide her back to the sidewalk, hand so firm it reminded her of a tree, so grounded, so reliable.

Even though they had been silent while sitting on the grass, and waiting for the police to talk to them, there was something that had been said between Edward and Winry. New parts of their character had been opened up for the other to see, in him, a steadiness and calm under pressure. And for her...Winry had no idea. What _did_ Edward see in her?

She swallowed all of her apprehensions, thinking that it would be infinitely more awkward should he notice her openly staring at him.

"Uh-uhm, hi Edward!" she called, wishing she could kick herself when her voice shook.

_Don't be stupid, everything's alright with him now! Why are you so worried about what he's going to say?_ she demanded, clenching her teeth. Edward started, turning in surprise at having had his name called. He stopped singing under his breath, the notes falling away haphazardly like pebbles being poured from a hand.

"Oh, Winry," he said, like things weren't really registering yet. He nodded hello, and she hesitantly walked closer, suddenly aware of how loud her voice had been. It echoed around her skull, especially now that he had stopped singing.

"Why were you looking up at that streetlight?" she asked after a moment, merely glad she had found something to say now that she had his attention. He shrugged, pointing up at the light. She noticed he wasn't wearing his gloves.

"It's broken. At least, the outside casing is cracked. I was just wondering what happened to make it like that. My best guess is that maybe there was a flaw in it to begin with, and then when it froze at some point, a crack developed." He looked up at the light, hand back in his pocket. Winry nodded, fumbling for the next thing to say.

Seeing him like this, so relaxed and talking about _streetlights_, of all things, was definitely not something Winry was used to. He usually had this fire about him, no matter what he was doing, an intensity that swept people along. Now he was just...existing, letting the flow of the world swirl around him instead of disrupting its course.

"So, uhm, what're you doing here? I mean, it's kind of an odd place to hang out," she said, an uncertain laugh in her voice. He rolled his eyes, a mild irritation coming into his face.

"Yeah, I know. I'm waiting for Ling and Ran Fan. They went into the store for candles or something and haven't come out yet," he explained, jabbing a thumb behind him to the shop front. Winry glanced at it, then focused back on him. "It's like they're on a date or something and I'm supposed to be their chaperone."

"And so they're taking revenge on you by dragging you all over town, going to places like candle shops?" she asked, smiling now.

"Yeah, I bet that's exactly what they're doing. Those guys like being assholes for no reason," Edward grumbled, kicking a pebble at his feet.

"Yes, Ed, because their whole purpose in life is to complicate yours."

"Seems like it. First they said they were going to go ice skating, because Ling just _has_ to do it in Armestris, to have the 'authentic western experience', and I figured I'd go along and watch their stuff, because they are total space cases sometimes. But then they changed their minds and starting buying things for reasons I don't even _want_ to know."

Winry laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand at his indignation. He scowled at her, then dropped his gaze back to the pavement.

"So you're passive-aggressively showing your distaste by refusing to go into the shop?"

"Sure, we'll say I'm being passive about it. And I don't want them trying to milk money offa me. I had enough of that during the summer."

She nodded and the subject fell away, leaving a few beats of awkward silence. The more time stretched on, the more Winry was regretting opening her mouth and saying anything to him at all.

"What were you singing?" she asked randomly, clearly catching him by surprise.

"Hm? Oh, it was_ Silent Night._ Al's got a solo for it in his orchestra, and he wanted me to be his accompaniment, so I helped him out before lunch."

"That was nice of you," she said, and he shrugged.

"It was nothing. Why'd you ask? You trying to criticize my singing, as pay back for all those piano lessons?" he asked. Winry's eyes widened in surprise as she began shaking her head, protests and explanations leaping to her lips before she saw the smile in his eyes. She huffed in irritation, shooting him a look that didn't completely hide her own grin.

"I just thought it was kind of weird. You don't really seem like the singing type, especially not for Christmas music. It's a bit early for that, don't you think? I mean, it's not even December."

"The song's just stuck in my head, so I figured why not sing it," he said easily, shrugging again. "And well, Christmas never seems to be too early for the city. Any extra time to go and...I dunno, never mind," he said, looking away. Winry's interest was immediately piqued, making her raise an eyebrow.

"You don't really think I'm not going to ask what your opinion about Christmas is, do you?"

"No, I guess not," Edward chuckled, shuffling his feet. "I just...I think it's really trumped up to be something it's not. Everyone acts like you're supposed to be someone completely different, someone super kind and understanding understand the true meaning of family and you're not supposed to get angry at people or else you're an asshole or whatever, but I just don't think that's gonna happen. I mean...it's just another day in the year, right?" When Edward spoke, it all came out in such a rush, like he wasn't used to getting an opportunity to really say what he thought, and wanted to get as much in as possible. He still looked a little defensive, though, like he thought Winry was about to jump down his throat for answering her question.

Winry opened her mouth to explain her own views on Christmas, when the shop door opened behind them. Ling and Ran Fan walked out with a couple of bags in tow, Ling fishing in one and pulling out a partially eaten cinnamon bun.

"Oh, hey, Winry! How're you doing?" Ling asked, grin large as usual. She shrugged, nodding hello at Ran Fan, who nodded back with a slight smile.

"I heard you guys were out shopping?" Winry asked after a beat, and Ling nodded.

"Yeah, shopping for Christmas. Xing doesn't really celebrate it, and Ranny and I thought it'd be fun to go around buying presents for everyone." Ran Fan blushed a little at the nick name but offered a nod in consent.

"Back in Xing, the most we ever really did was see someone wearing a Santa hat. We never got the full side of it," she added, and Winry nodded.

"Well, I hope you enjoy the holiday," Winry said, smiling. "It kind of depends on who you're spending it with, some people take it way too seriously and others just kind of shrug it off. Where are you going to spend the break?"

"They'll be at my place," Edward said, hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground like he was embarrassed about it. "I don't think anyone's allowed to stay at school over Winter Break."

"Oh?" Winry asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Hm, that's good to know. I guess I had better start looking at train tickets."

"To go back to Resembool?" Edward asked, picking up his eyes. His brows were furrowed somewhat, though she couldn't really read his expression.

"Yeah. I mean, if I can't stay at school... It'll be nice, though. I get to see all my old friends, tell them about all of my 'big city adventures.'"

"Dealing with rich snobs and a grumpy piano teacher, that'll be fun," Ling grinned, elbowing Edward in the side. Winry laughed, then glanced at her watch with a start.

"Ack, sorry guys, I've gotta split. I'm supposed to be at Garfeil's in a few minutes, so I had better hurry. It was nice talking to you!" she said, turning to leave. The others bid farewell, waving and saying that they would see her tomorrow. She ran down the sidewalk, skipping across the street before cars reached the crosswalk and rushed into Garfeil's with barely seconds to spare.

"Get out a little late, did we?" Garfeil asked from behind the counter, a slight smile on his face.

"No-no, I just...got caught talking with...some friends," she puffed, leaning against the door frame. He laughed, shaking his head.

"You kids are just so _social_ these days. I kind of wish I couldn't walk down the road without seeing someone I knew," he mused, tilting his head.

"Not if it makes you late for work," she countered in a sing-song voice, which made him smile.

"Right answer. Now, I had to jumble the schedule, so you have a customer coming in about fifteen minutes. From what the note Elliot took says..." he said, mentioning one of the car mechanics and flipping through the papers at the desk "...he needs some work done on his hand. I think he's got an older model, so it's more clockwork than anything. You'll have to ask him about the rest, though."

"Alright," Winry said, pulling her work coveralls out of a small locker. "Has he come here before?"

"Not for a while. The last I recall, it was several months before your started working here."

She nodded, then ducked into the back room change and clean up her desk from the day before. She had just barely managed to clear a space for her to work when Garfeil called to her from the front. Winry got up and stuck her head out, not sure of what he had said.

"Hm?"

"Oh, I was just wondering...when will that boy of yours come back?"

Winry frowned a moment, trying to guess at what he meant by 'that boy of hers'. Sudden understand slammed into place and she jerked back, flushing.

"You mean _Edward?_ He's not- I mean, he's just my- _it's not like that,_" she said, fumbling for words under Garfeil's knowing smile. Winry thunked her head against the door frame, thinking that she had just dug herself a grave a mile deep with her inability to react well to less than pleasant surprises. If she had just managed to get the words out and say that Edward was _just a friend,_ and she was doing him an enormous favor by fixing up his automail, then Garfeil's suspicions would be laid to rest and that would be the end of it. Now, though, he would _never_ let it drop.

Edward had come in to see her twice since the initial appointment, in which time they had both gotten to know each other better, and she had improved his prosthesis immensely. She even thought to herself that if she _hadn't_ been along to work on his arm and leg, his fight with the Ouroboroughs would have ended in a very terrible way. But every time he had come in, slipping back into the back to allow Winry to tinker, Garfeil had apparently been developing ideas.

Winry narrowed her eyes at the man, his occasional visits into the back for this wrench or that file suddenly seeming a whole lot less benign. Garfeil just smirked at her, wagging a pen in her direction.

"You know, if you wanted a little time off to go spend time with him, I wouldn't necessarily say no..."

"Ed and I are _just friends!_" she said exasperatedly, but then a part of her asked it that was really _true,_ in all senses of the word. She had always been at least a little confused by their relationship, and had allowed herself to be dragged along by it and pray for the best. Now, after everything they had been through, things were even more complicated. She blinked, and his face sprang into her head, back from when he had helped her up after Maes' accident. As he had lead her back to the sidewalk, Winry completely aware of him still holding her hand, his other hand lightly touching her elbow, he had sent her a look.

She hadn't been sure what exactly the expression had meant at the time, as she had probably still been in shock, but now she was sure of what that little glance meant. _You have just done something good, you did just right. Maes is going to be okay now._

And, for some reason, Edward's approval and reassurance, silent as it was, meant a lot more than those of the police officer's or other people in the crowd.

Winry shook herself, not wanting to space out and give Garfeil another excuse to tease her.

"Well, I've seen you come in here all upset because of some 'damn Edward Elric,' and I don't think that's normal behavior for 'just friends.' But what do I know, I just run an auto shop."

"That was before we were friends," she said lamely, dropping her eyes. "Now...we are friends, and I don't do that."

"Ah-huh. Well, if you say so..."

"I do say so!" she retorted, stalking back to workspace. She scowled as she sat down, picking up a screwdriver and twirling it in her fingers. Winry suddenly wanted Harry there, so she could ask the barkeep about what on earth was going on in her life and see if she could help shuffle it back into any sense of normality. Writing letters was nice, but hearing Harry's voice and the tone that said Winry was being ridiculous and needed to ease up on the teenager emotions was her only real anchor to her base sense of reality. At least, it was now that her parents and grandmother were gone.

_That'll be an upshot of having to go home for Winter Break,_ she thought to herself, a tight feeling in her chest. While a part of her wanted to go back home, she had quickly grown to love St. Bradley's and all of its upper class drama.

Winry put her head in her hands, groaning aloud. How many times had she had these exact thoughts over the course of the last week or so? Around and around they would come, the same points restated and rehashed until she felt like jumping into a pool of ice water just for a change of pace.

The front door opened with a tinkle and she straightened, glancing at the clock and guessing that it was her new customer. She cursed quietly to herself and ran her hands over her hair, telling herself to stop thinking about Edward. That wasn't going to get her anywhere, especially when she was fretting over something that wasn't actually even a problem. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that she really did need to talk about the whole situation with somebody, even if it was to straighten out her thoughts or to get a second opinion.

As her new customer walked into the back room, Winry quietly resolved to write to Harry the moment she got home. It may not have been the same as speaking to her, but at least it was something.

**_AN I still don't know about this chapter. It kind of feels like lafsiodfhwelkj; but I'm not going to nitpick. BUT WHAT I SHALL DO IS PROMPTLY START ON THE NEXT CHAPTER TO AVOID MORE OF THESE HIDEOUS WAITS. YEAH. WHOO. (and also try to keep from sitting in a corner and giving ugly sobs as I try to keep my head with ALL OF THESE TV SHOW FEEEELS)_**

**_Now, excuse me while I go puke up something else I've been putting off. Please review and tell me what you think in the mean time :)_**

_Rock And Roll - Eric Hutchinson  
>Same Mistakes - Eric Hutchinson<br>So-So - Brooke Waggoner  
>Put Your Records On - Corinne Bailey Rae<br>Pent Up House - Judy Wexler  
>Creepin' In - Norah Jones and Dolly Parton<em>


	24. I Am on My Way

**_AN adsfjkl; i never meant to lie about updating soon i'm sorryyyyyyy. But hey, longish chapter.  
><em>**

**_Oh my gosh. So, I was glancing back through the chapters, and can I just say that I am really, really sorry for putting you guys through these weirdass author notes? I just...I don't even know sometimes. And I also noticed that the feel of the first chapter is really, really different from everything else OTL I don't know what happened, Winry was all angsty and sad, and now she's a lot more chipper with a better attitude, I don't even...what happened? Of course, I really, really like the way Winry is now, but gosh. Maybe I realized just how terrible a story it would be from a sulky, depressed Winry's POV, and changed it right away XD_**

**_OH AND A NOTE THAT I HAVE BEEN FORGETTING TO MAKE FOR ABOUT THREE CHAPTERS NOW. Obviously, in this AU there is Christmas. One, because I'm far too lazy to come up with some other big winter holiday and detail its traditions because in the FMAverse, Christmas doesn't exist. Two, because I decided to make Armestris an actual part of the world, as it also allows me to make music/style references in the story that wouldn't happen otherwise. So just imagine that Europe has been expanded outwards, as Armestris (about the size of Romania) has been dropped down where Hungary, Austria, the Czech Republic and the like are supposed to be. Drachma is a much smaller country than in FMA and slipped in with the countries just mentioned, while the East Desert slips in along the southern Romanian border, then expands when we reach the Middle East. And then we have Xing, which has been pushed back to take up the edges of China, India and Pakistan._**

**_BAM SOME FAKE GEOGRAPHICAL KNOWLEDGE HAS JUST BEEN DROPPED ON YA._**

The choir's chatter swelled around Winry, then dropped as everyone's conversations synced together. She was currently speaking to a fourth year tenor, debating who would receive the big solo for the Winter Concert coming up in a few weeks. The choir director studied his music, searching for the answer to a student's question. In the meantime, everyone had fallen into conversation. The choir director looked up, frowning as though he was just clicking into the noise. He took one glance around the room, and then half shouted '_Bad, bad, bad musicians talk!_'

Immediate silence followed his heavy Drachman accent. He was already an eccentric man to begin with, such as retaining many of his habits from his college days, such as spiking his hair, even though it had been more than a decade since he had been there. He also came up with unique tricks for singing, which he handed out nearly every period. Just the day before he had urged the choir to make sure they all 'swallowed their Drachman fish' to attain the proper sound for a song, and that they had to make sure to shoot musical arrows out into the audience so they could be heard properly. They were strange, but they always did the trick.

"Come on, guys, we need to focus! Our concert is only in two weeks, not to mention everyone's final! You've all got to perform _your own composition,_ or you're not going to pass the class."

"_What_?" Winry hissed to the boy beside her, eyes wide. He nodded, shrugging a little.

"Didn't anyone tell you? At the end of each semester we have to perform a piece by ourselves in front of an audience, in place of a final for our music classes. It encourages independence, apparently."

"Our own composition, though?"

"Mm-hm, they strongly encourage you to come up with your own piece, and have a teacher work with you on it. You _can_ do a cover of something, but you have to have x amount of original things to it, which is easier or harder, depending on what your strong points are. Oh, and it has to be accompanied by some instrument, like a flute or piano or something. If you're good enough at the piano, they'll let you accompany yourself."

Winry nodded, frowning a little. Write a song? When would she have time for _that? _Between her job, school, homework and actually eating and sleeping, there wasn't much room for composing a freaking _song._

_Oh good. Well, I guess I can ask Edward about it. He seems like the type that's good at making things, and he's already a musical prodigy, so there's that..._

The period went by quickly after that, as the horror of failing abysmally at their concerts sank into the students and made them knuckle down.

Despite the fact that it had been more than a week since Maes' accident, Winry kept finding her eyes straying over to Maria's unoccupied seat. She had heard that her family had taken a sudden trip to West City, which made her worry even though she didn't believe for a second that the girl was guilty. Rumors had run rampant about the whole thing, and Maria vacating the school only made her seem guiltier. Fuery had explained it all to her while waiting for Professor Grumman to come in.

"If she had stuck around, there's no doubt that people would have harassed her about it. And, of course, her parents wanted to avoid as much scandal as possible. It's bad enough that it looked like she hit Maes, but she might say something that will work against her. The Hughes family haven't pressed charges, even though Roy told them exactly what happened, but if something got out that might be construed against her...it wouldn't be good, to say the least."

Winry had nodded, frowning. It felt like Maria was also a victim here, but it posed the same question that applied to Maes - who on earth would want to hurt her? She was honest, kind and had a stunning sense of right and wrong, which she didn't mind exhibiting even if it went against the crowd. From what Winry could tell, she was exactly the sort of person you wanted on your side.

Winry walked to lunch, thankful that she had brought along her coat when someone opened the hall doors and a cold wind swept through the students. A few people swore as they adjusted a skirt or blazer, or lost a couple of papers at the sudden breeze. She slid through the crowd, then cut across the lawn to the lunchroom.

Once inside, she let herself thaw in the warm scent of soup and bread. Already some of her friends had snagged a table, and were chattering and starting on their lunches. She got her lunch and went to sit beside Denny, who was debating something with Rebecca, who had just dropped by the table.

Rebecca was, in the simplest of terms, a woman always on her feet. Winry had yet to see her sitting down for the sake of sitting down, and it seemed like she saw the girl everywhere. She was always on the go, heading over to talk to this person or confirm that message or drop something off for a teacher. Combined with her energetic personality, Rebecca often left the impression of riding a whirlwind. She really didn't know how Riza managed to make friends with the girl, as Riza was not the type of person to waste energy on running around doing a thousand things. But she supposed the same could be said for many different friendships, such as with her and Ed.

"So what do you want me do to about it?" Denny was asking, looking a little harried. "You just said _you_ wanted to do it."

"But you're his _favorite student._ Don't you want to win a few extra brownie points for coming up with this _fantastic _idea?"

Denny stared at her, and took an unimpressed bite out of his apple.

"What's the catch?" he asked, sounding suspicious. "You usually jump at the chance of earning brownie points. Why aren't you doing it?"

"Well..." she stalled, then sighed dramatically and let her arms flop to her sides, "He shot me down cold, said it was a terrible idea."

"What's a terrible idea?" Winry asked the table in general, feeling rather confused. Falman, a quiet, observant boy that played the clarinet turned to her, ready to fill in the gaps.

"Having an ice sculpture at the winter dance," he said. "Rebecca's trying to convince Brosch to ask Storch."

Winry had learned after a few days at St. Bradley's that Antton Storch wasn't Headmaster Bradley's assistant as she had originally thought, but rather the deputy headmaster as well as an English teacher. He was in charge of the majority of school functions, and if any student wanted something special for one, whether it was music or decorations or whatever, they had to ask him.

"Why is Storch against it?" she asked, catching Rebecca's attention.

"Oh, he thinks it's will be messy and will only melt and that they are entirely impractical, or some crap like that," she sighed, mimicking his voice. "He's got it in his head that everyone's this lawless vagabond, and want nothing more than to carve at it, leaving chips everywhere for people to slip on."

"That's totally possible," Winry pointed out. "I mean, we're not preschoolers, but we're not exactly the refined adults people like to think we are. And you guys are _really_ planning for this already?"

"We have to. We want it to be really big, a sort of kick off for the end of the year, combining Christmas and New Years', because no one's gonna be here. We were thinking it should be really formal and gorgeous, where the girls wear these nice dresses and the guys wear suits..."

"Oh, gosh, don't tell me you're talking about the dance _again,_" Havoc groaned, walking up and holding a tray. "Rebecca, I have heard you chatter on about that stupid thing for two periods straight, and I swear if you keep it up," he said, setting his tray down emphatically, "I'll lose my mind."

Rebecca stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to Brosch.

"Come _on_ Denny, I need you here! I will owe you such a big favor by the end of it, _please._ Just ask him."

"No! I know Storch's gonna say no, and it'll just be a waste of time! Get Mustang to do it or something."

"Please, after the nightmare the Halloween dance ended up being, he's sworn that he will sooner go swimming naked in glochids, which I have been informed are the demon little hair things on cactus. Plus he's got a lot on his shoulders at the moment, I think it's kinder to just let him...decompress."

"Better decompress than set something on fire," Havoc grunted into his soda. This earned a look from Winry, but she was too intrigued in Rebecca and Denny's debate to comment.

"Fine, don't have Mustang do it! But I'm not gonna get dragged into this, because if Storch says no, you're going to force me into a hundred other things just so we can get a stupid swan sculpture at the dance."

Rebecca stared at him for a moment, clearly trying to think of some new persuasion before giving up.

"Fine! Fine, I'll find someone else to do it. And you know what, they'll do it gladly, and he'll accept because they are _soooooo_ charming, and then we'll have an ice sculpture, and it will look great and at the end of it all, you'll be like 'Damn. Wish I helped Rebecca with her swan, she actually knows what she's doing,' but you won't because you're being a little prick." Rebecca huffed after this hurried speech, then whipped her hand out to Havoc.

"Gimme your phone, I need to call Riza." He looked startled, then glanced around as if begging for help.

"Wha - no! Use your own, she's like, third on your speed dial."

"Second, _actually_, and my phone's dead." She shot a look at Havoc, who quickly gave up the phone.

"_Thank you._ Finally, someone has an idea as to how to treat a lady!" She stalked off, flipping it open and punching in what Winry guessed was Riza's number.

"What was..." the girl began, and Havoc sighed.

"Rebecca's feeling the crunch of the dance without Maes here. They're the ones usually in charge of these things, plus she's taking all of these advanced courses, so there's that. Oh, and then she has to decide which one of her turbulent parents she's going to spend the break with. They've been at each other's throats since she was in the sixth grade, and they use her as ammunition."

"What, really?" she asked, shocked. "That's..."

"It's pretty freakin' sucky, that's what it is," he agreed, and Winry could only nod. The conversation stuttered for a moment, before turning on to a different subject. After a few minutes Havoc got up and left, muttering something about going out to find Roy, only to have his place filled by Ling a short while later. Winry worked on her lunch and listened, until Al suddenly dropped into the seat across from her. She greeted him, but he didn't respond. Instead, the boy stared into space, hands held up in front of him as if to try and help him encompass something elusive.

"You guys," he began, just as she was about to question him in concern, "I have just...had my mind _blown."_

"Uhm...go on?" Winry half said, half asked. He looked up and glanced at everyone, then said in a rush "_The Piano Guys."_

"Come again?"

"The. Piano Guys. They are...absolutely incredible."

"Oh, did you come across them today?" Denny asked, leaning over to see Alphonse. He nodded, still wearing that utterly shocked face.

"I mean, Ed told me about them a while back, but I never got around to looking at them, but then I remembered in the library today, and _oh my gosh._"

"I'm assuming they're really great pianists or something," Winry said, and he shook his head.

"No, well, yeah, sort of. One guy is this pianist, and the other guy is this cellist and I swear,_ God_ touched their fingers."

"Wow," she said after a moment.

"_Yeah!_ The cellist, though, he's everything every serious cellist _every_ wants to be!" Alphonse burbled, a light slipping into his eyes that Winry had seen around the school a few times before. Every so often, one of the students would come across a song or particular model of instrument or musician, and they were transported to a plain where only their hopes, dreams and the music existed. Anything seemed possible to them at that moment, they could be anything if they just tried hard enough. Winry had to wonder if she looked like that when she was talking about automail.

"He's great with an acoustic cello, no doubt about it, but what he can do with an _electric _one...it leaves me speechless."

"Jeez Al, if I knew you'd be like this, I would have given you the guy's address and sent you with a ring," Edward teased, appearing over his shoulder and slipping into the end seat by his brother. Al glanced over at him, but hardly spared the joke a moment of his attention.

"What's so special about an electric cello?" Winry asked, recalling a rather odd looking instrument she had seen being carried by one of the students a few weeks earlier. It had had a neck like a normal cello, but for the body, there had merely been a squiggle of plastic that imitated the shape of the instrument.

"It's the same concept as an electric guitar, only _cello-y," _Al gushed, pressing his palms flat against the table. "But you can do so much more with it, like percussive stuff with the bow or play on the neck kind of like it's a drum, and _oh my gosh I want one so bad._"

Ed grinned and rolled his eyes, elbowing Alphonse in the side.

"Hey, kid, you're birthday's past. You're gonna half to hold off for a few months."

Alphonse whirled to stare at his brother, eyes wide and hopeful.

"_Doesthatmeanyou'llbuymeone?_" he gasped, and Ed shrugged, large smile still on his face, even though he was clearly trying to work it off.

"Yeah, sure, why not. It's not like it's out of my price range."

"_Ohmygoshthankyou!_"

"You're welcome, just make sure you breathe," Edward laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder. Winry laughed as well, glad to see the two of them looking so happy. Ed glanced at Winry, and of course, Garfeil's words popped back into her head, about how Edward was 'her boy'.

Warmth creeped up her neck, but she managed to play it off and smile at him. She turned her gaze back down to the remains of her lunch, sucking in a breath. Both Harry and her grandmother had teased her about boys before, whenever one came over to the house to study or if she was paired with one on a project for school, but there was just something about Garfeil that made it seem so much more _believable._

Lunch passed, and Winry began climbing up the staircase in the main building to her math class. She saw Roy as she walked down the hall, and he tossed her a wave, listening to something Breda was saying beside him. He looked tired and worn, like all of the responsibilities he had taken on were suddenly grinding him into the pavement. A part of her wanted to go and say or do something that would help him, but she didn't really feel like she knew him well enough to justify another so familiar, and besides, dozens of people had probably already offered what they thought were truly heartfelt condolences for his best friend.

Just thinking about it reminded Winry of the way people had acted towards her after her grandmother had died. They were all sad, pitying eyes and casseroles and 'just make sure you ask if you need anything, dear's, when all she really wanted was for them to _leave her the hell alone._ People talking about it, specifically people who didn't know her or her grandmother or what she was feeling didn't make Winry feel any better, it was just a sharp reminder of her only remaining family member being dead.

She pressed her lips together and walked into class, a weight having shifted onto her chest. Those memories were stirring something in her, something that Winry had managed to press down under the frantic schedule and the continual work load and the crazy attitudes of the people at St. Bradley's. She chewed on her cheek as she pulled out her calculator, thinking that there was something she was forgetting, and that it would hit her like an anvil when she remembered.

_Oh good,_ she thought darkly. _I just can't seem to have a moment's rest without problems. If it's not making a song for my final, it's my weird relationship with Ed, and if it's not that, then it's some mystery problem that seems to be very, very important. _

The period passed slowly, as an army of theorems and far too many triangles were dumped over the student's heads. As she staggered out of the room, Winry was just thankful to have left with her sanity still intact. Still, though, she couldn't dismiss the feeling that there was _something_ she shouldn't have forgotten. The feeling stayed with her as she left the building, nestling down a little farther into her coat when the cold hit her. The wind had died down, which was a plus, saving her legs from any extra discomfort.

When she reached her apartment, Winry pulled off her bag and coat. She glanced at her watch, checking to see when she would have to leave for work, then remembered that she had traded shifts with one of the mechanics for the next day. Her arm dropped to her side, and Winry glanced around for a moment, uncertain as to what she had to do. There was homework (there was _always_ homework), but she was still letting her brain take a breather from her double math period.

An idea hit her and she set off towards the kitchen. Winry honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd made herself a proper meal, not just a sandwich or scrambled eggs or the occasional desert. Today, though, with her extra free time, Winry was going to make something good.

She skimmed through the fridge, pulling out vegetables and the like, her heart set on making some soup. It was a comforting rhythm, pulling out the potatoes or carrots or whatever, washing them, cutting them and putting them into a pot of boiling water. Warm, comforting memories of working in her kitchen along with her grandmother appeared in Winry's head. The hot, spicy scent of Pinako's pipe mixed with lemon pepper or heating oil as the two laughed and talked, the sound of water boiling with the radio on in the background. Or, a much less recent memory, her mother giving one of her soft smiles as she seasoned pieces of chicken, or her father washing dishes and lightly joking about how the man of the house had to be put in his place every so often.

Winry found herself smiling over the memories, worries temporarily forgotten, when she gasped and dropped her knife. It clattered dully on the cutting board as her eyes widened, staring at nothing as her mind whirled.

Today was...no, no, it couldn't have been just two days away, she couldn't have _forgotten..._

She hurried out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, hands sticky from onion juice but her not caring, because she had to find her calendar, had to go see if she had the date correct.

Her heart was pounding in her ears as she scanned the page. That was it, she had been right. Today was the twentieth...and that meant the anniversary of her parent's deaths was just two days away.

Winry furrowed her brow, then slowly walked back to the kitchen to stir her soup pot. That's what it had been, she thought dimly. The thing that had been weighing on her in math, it had been just about the most important date in Winry's life. The day her parents had been lost in the Ishvallan War because of an unexpected bombing.

She chewed on her cheek, thinking that she shouldn't really being feeling like this, considering it had been years since she'd lost them and had reconciled it all ages ago. But thinking about how she wouldn't be able to look to Granny Pinako for comfort, or at least go see their graves after school...

Winry swallowed and slapped her cheeks, telling herself to not think about that and become depressed.

_Cooking while sad makes the food taste bad,_ she recited, an old rhyme her mother and grandmother had loved tossing around. It sometimes elicited a laugh, because they all knew just how ironic it was. Cooking when upset seemed to be a Rockbell woman trait, as all three generations had flown to the kitchen when they were angry or sad, the chopping of onions or the pounding of dough soothing their souls.

She continued cooking her meal, and while she wasn't _sad_ per se, there was a stone on her heart and a lump in her throat that she just didn't seem able to shake.

_**AN I think part of the reason why it took so long for me to update this chapter was because I was so utterly and completely blocked and I had no idea how I was going to sew the last chapter to the next one, even though I **_**knew_ I needed a chapter in between them. So that's why a lot of this chapter is fluff, because I really just sat down and began writing whatever would pass the time, though the first scene and the last scene are relatively important ;)_**

**_And Piano Guys section because they are awesome and everyone should look them up.  
><em>**

**_So, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I have no idea of the specifics of the the next one, even though I know exactly what I want to happen which very well may lead to a break in the style of the story so far, but I am very, very sure that you guys will like it. Sit tight for that, and I will do my darn diddly best to update soon._**

**_(oh, and I almost forgot the music D:)  
><em>**

_Down in the Valley - The Head and The Heart  
>Micheal Meets Mozart - The Piano Guys<br>Stop This Train - John Mayer  
>No Such Thing- John Mayer<em>


	25. Appassionato

**_AN *runs off screaming into the night at such a long chapter*_**

Edward pulled on his jacket as the rain outside clattered on his window. It was rather unusual for the weather to be so warm this late into the year, but Edward preferred slightly warm rain to very cold sludge. At least the rain didn't show the dirt from the roads if it stuck around for a few days.

He zipped up his jacket, grabbed his wallet and an umbrella, then headed out. He hadn't been shopping in a while, and the amount of groceries in his little kitchen was running alarmingly low. Even though he frequently ate lunch from the cafeteria or from one of his preferred cafes nearby, Edward still liked the thought of being able to make something with his own two hands, no matter how time consuming it might feel at times.

He opened up the umbrella and tugged up his hood, then headed to one of the side gates. The odd student or teacher was also around the grounds, walking casually under their umbrellas or large hoods, or hurriedly running from tree to tree if they were unfortunate enough to have their head uncovered.

Edward headed down the street, walking towards the nearest supermarket. People kept their heads down as they shuffled past, grunting apologies as they bumped into each other.

Edward's trip into the store was quick, barely half an hour passed before he was out again. Still, the sky was already turning dark, the thick layer of rain clouds not exactly helping the matter. He hummed to himself as he walked back down the alleys to the school, smiling as the Christmas lights lit up the little road. This was one thing he truly liked about the holiday season - the decorations, if done correctly, always looked wonderful.

The rain eased up for a moment, and Edward tipped his head and umbrella back to look at the sky. A childish grin spread across his face as the raindrops hit his face before he tipped it back down, shaking the water from his eyes. No one seemed to have noticed his actions, too busy burying themselves in their cell phones, chores and worries. It was always amazing to Edward how people could be swimming in the middle of a giant, breathtaking world, but not realize anything beyond what personally inconvenienced them.

Just as he was turning his eyes back down, he caught sight of a swath of light blonde hair. Immediately he recognized it to be Winry, and thought this was the direct opposite of how they'd met a few days before. Edward was just opening his mouth to call hello when she stopped, shoulders shaking, and began sobbing in the middle of the alley.

People were turning to shoot her looks over their shoulders as they walked past, some concerned, others alarmed and a few looking a little freaked out, but none of them stopped to help her. Edward stared at her, shocked and unsure what to do before he found his legs suddenly moving forward, taking him to her side.

"Winry, hey, hey, Winry, look at me. Are you alright?"

He shifted the umbrella to the hand holding his grocery bags, then put his free hand on her shoulder. Winry barely seemed to register he had spoken to her, as she was far too busy sobbing. Her hands were up, wiping at her cheeks, though he couldn't really see the point as she had long since been soaked through by the rain. She was hardly dressed for the weather, wearing one of her short skirts and a light jacket over a t-shirt, but then he doubted that she had actually been preoccupied with the weather while dressing.

She seemed to notice he was there when he moved the umbrella to cover her and the rain stopped pouring on her head. Winry spared him half a glance, confusion fluttering across her features.

"E-E-Edward? What're you-"

"What're _you_ doing?" he demanded, cutting over her. She glanced around as if unsure, and he shook his head.

"Never mind. What...what's wrong?" Now that he had committed to the situation, Edward found himself panicking. He'd never been good with actually comforting people, specializing more in giving a few stern words of advice, reprimand, and optimism all wrapped into one, but somehow he felt that this wouldn't fly under this scenario. Winry shrugged, like she was considering saying that nothing was wrong with her, that she was perfectly fine. He gave her a flat look, and then she probably realized that she couldn't really talk her way out of breaking down in the middle of public.

"I-I-I don't know, usually I'm n-not like this, but then I was thinking about my p-parents, and I just-"

A new wave of tears started, and Edward glanced around, terrified someone would grab him and demand why he was harassing some poor girl to the point of tears. Instead, he pulled Winry into a tight one armed hug, more to muffle her crying than anything.

"It's okay, it's okay. Come on, stop crying," he said, a vague echo of what his mother had said after he'd woken up to find two of his limbs missing. The memory was a stab of pain to Edward, but he couldn't focus on himself when he had a hysteric Winry to deal with.

"Hey, come on Winry, let's just go back to the school, alright? You gonna make it that far?"

Winry nodded and wiped her face again, then gave a shiver from the cold. Edward gave a start, realization crashing over him.

"Crap, you're soaked and I've been standing here like an idiot. Here," he said, shrugging out of his jacket and handing it to her. She pulled it on with numb fingers, looking more than a little like a half drowned kitten under his large red coat. Wordlessly Winry took the umbrella from him as well, a strange mirror image of the walk back home after she had saved him from the Ouroboroughs. Only, now Edward was responsible to help fix her on an emotional level, whereas she had just been required to patch him up physically. He sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, then began guiding her to the school.

They slowly began to shuffle off, each passing meter both a blessing and an agony to Edward, as it meant the distance to the safety of the school grounds was that much smaller, but still that far away. Winry had mostly quieted by now, letting out tiny sobs every so often. Edward found himself giving a constant stream of comforting words that really didn't mean anything. He supposed it was alright, though, as it seemed to soothe Winry somewhat.

After what seemed like a lifetime, he pulled open the side gate and ushered her in, then shut it behind him. Edward glanced around to make sure that they were alone, then grabbed her shoulders and made Winry face him.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked, voice firm but gentle. Winry wiped her nose on the back of her hand, mumbling something under her breath.

"Winry, tell me what's going on. You can't just expect me to send you on your merry way after freaking out in front of a crap ton of people," he said, voice a little less gentle as his patience began to wear thin. Her crying had completely frazzled his nerves, because it was a whole heck of a lot harder to fix someone's soul as opposed to their body.

Edward dropped his hands from her shoulders, waiting for her to respond.

"I-I just, I was being stupid," she said after a moment, voice tight and shaky. "I don't even know why I'm doing this, I was just walking down the alley, wandering really, but I couldn't..."

She trailed off, biting down on her lips. He wondered if it was to keep more sobbing back, or if it actually helped calm her down. Then he remembered how his mother had always said that biting down on your emotions would make things worse and send you to an early grave.

He pushed those thoughts away, because that wasn't exactly _helping_ at the moment.

"You...said something about your parents?" Edward nudged hesitantly, not wanting to start her up again. The last time they had discussed the Heartily's, she had seemed rather calm and at ease with the subject, but now that was clearly not the case. What had changed?

"Yeah, I, uhm, I dunno. It's just...I was thinking about them, because they died today," she confessed, voice breaking at the end. Edward blinked, then straightened a little. "Five years ago today, they were killed in the war. And I was just thinking that normally, I would be sitting in my kitchen with Granny, and we'd be making some dish that my dad liked, sharing old stories or just being quiet or flipping through an old photo album. And then I realized that Granny was dead, like it just hit me, all at once that we would never be able to do that, not ever, and that I don't really have a family any more. Gosh, Edward, then I realized that I haven't been thinking about them at all since I came here. I mean, I _thought _about them, but it was like they weren't gone, like they didn't matter. I got a freakin' photo album from home because I was so upset I was leaving for Central, and I haven't even looked through it all the way! I haven't had time in my 'new life', with work and school and friends, and I just - I feel like such a terrible daughter," she finished, looking at him with large, heart sore blue eyes.

Edward stared at her a moment, voice lost in this sudden out pour of raw emotion from a girl that was normally so pulled together. Then, without even pausing to think, he grabbed her into a fierce hug. The shaft of the umbrella was stuck between them, tilted at an odd angle so as to allow rain to drop onto his bare neck, but he didn't care.

"Don't you dare think like that," he told her, "don't you _ever_ think you are some bad daughter because you didn't lay down and die when they did. If Pinako could see you, right now, right here, she would give you the biggest ass kicking for acting like this."

Winry gave a small chuckle, nodding into his shoulder.

"I know, but...I don't even have a home anymore. What's left after your family dies?"

"All sorts of things," he said, pulling back and flashing her a smile. "Friends, for one. They're there to pick you up when your family lets you down."

Winry nodded, not exactly convinced. They turned and began walking, Winry unconsciously following Edward as he made for her dorm building.

"Here, come on. I'll help you out right now," he continued, "Go change into something warm and dry, and then we'll go over to my place." The words were out of Edward's mouth before he had even formed a proper thought, but now that they were out, he couldn't help but think just how much he liked the idea. It would be good for Winry to get away from everything that was wearing her down, to just go and sit somewhere and not worry about anything.

"Your house? Like...the mansion?"

"What? No, my dorm. I'm not gonna let you head back to your room and stew and get back to feeling awful. You need something to keep your mind off of things." Winry didn't exactly look sold on the subject, and he shook his head, grinning.

"Come on, Winry. Today's a Friday, so no classes tomorrow. We'll go and talk and make brownies, watch a movie or something, anything. So, what do you say, will you come? You can't say no. Will you?"

She gave a tiny laugh, more sigh than anything, giving a tiny shake of the head. They had stopped in front of the front of her dorm building by now, the windows looking dark and sad and only helping to make Edward's point.

"Are you sure? I mean...I don't think it's exactly allowed."

"Me being soaking wet and not wearing a shirt while sitting on your bed wasn't exactly allowed, but you insisted on that anyways," he pointed out, a crooked grin on his lips. "Go on and get changed, then come back out. I'll be right here," he promised, nodding his head at her dorm. Her eyes slid away from his face to glance at the building beside them, then she sighed, shoulders slumping a little in defeat.

"Fine. I'll just be a sec," she said, handing back his umbrella and hurrying to the door. As she fumbling with her keys a moment, Edward watched her, shivering in his large red coat. It was a little too big for him, but on her, who was several inches shorter and quite a bit thinner than he was, it looked massive.

_At least she doesn't look pathetic like she did while she was crying,_ he thought to himself, smiling slightly. A breeze pushed the rain under his umbrella, making Edward start. He shifted, wishing Winry would hurry up so they could get into the warmth of his dorm. Offering her his jacket had been the obvious, noble thing to do at the time, but with the wind was starting to blow, cooling the rain that had gotten all over his back, Edward was feeling a little _less_ noble.

A few minutes later Winry was back, wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a large sweater under his jacket. She seemed to have scrubbed her hair down with a towel, ran a brush through it a couple of times and then yanked it back into a ponytail. She certainly appeared to be a lot happier as she bounded over to him, taking the umbrella from his hands again.

"Ready?" he asked, and she nodded, giving a shy smile. They walked across the grounds to his dorm, talking casually. Winry still seemed nervous for some reason as they neared his dormitory, glancing around to see if people were watching them.

"Geez, Rockbell, relax. No one's gonna see us."

"But what if they do-"

"That wasn't a problem when I went into your dorm," he reminded her again, and she gave an embarrassed smile.

"I guess...I dunno, I guess I'm just a little on edge. I mean, I already freaked out in public, I don't really want to be any more of a spectacle today." Edward grinned at her, pulling out his key and unlocking his door.

"So, who else lives here?" Winry asked as she walked in, following him as he took a right down the hallway towards his room.

"Only one other guy. There aren't that many advanced students, and then some of them want to stay in dorms with their friends, even if it means giving up the nicer living space."

"Who's the other guy?" Winry asked, waiting as he opened his door.

"Zolf Kimblee. He's a fourth year and-"

"Oh, what, _that_ guy?" she asked, making a face. Edward looked at her, and then she seemed to realize that her reaction had been a little off. "I just, uhm, I dunno. I get a bad vibe from him," she explained, shrugging.

"Fair enough. I know he absolutely terrifies first years. But, yeah, he lives on the other side of the building, up on the second floor."

"And you're not worried that he's going to catch us?" Winry asked, and he shook his head.

"Even if he did, he wouldn't tell anyone. He's an okay guy."

Winry pursed her lips and brought her eyebrows together as if to say she truly doubted that, but didn't comment. She paused, glancing around her for a moment then pulled off his jacket and hung it over one of the chairs at his small table. Now that she was in his room, he felt a little self conscious, glancing around to make sure he hadn't left anything to hang around in sight.

After a moment, Winry looked at him, about to pass verdict and said "Your room's too clean. It's kind of freaking me out."

"I - what?"

"Your room's too neat," she repeated simply, shrugging again. "I mean,_ look_ at this place. It's more like a military barrack than the room of a teenage boy. You're, what, sixteen? No one our age keeps their room _this clean_ by choice."

Edward scowled at her as he walked over to his tiny kitchen and began putting things away.

"I just like things being in order," he told her, dropping a bag of apples in the fridge. "I mean, I like a little chaos now and then, but mostly because I can pick it apart and see that there's a plan, that there's a method to the madness."

Winry looked at him a second, then said decisively "You're weird."

"What, you get excited over automail," he shot back. "I just like the math to it, the...order. I like things to make sense."

"That explains how you're so great with music," Winry said, and he blinked at her.

"You know, it's all counting and math and keep track of numbers and which goes where. When you take the heart and soul out of it, the whole thing is pretty cut and dry."

"...Yeah," he said, smiling at her. "I guess you're right."

"Were you always so great at the piano?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"I guess. I didn't play as a kid like I do now, but I was certainly good."

"...Did you have to relearn when you lost your arm?" Winry asked tentatively, and he gave a smile as if to say that he didn't really care talking about his automail. Not when there were a number of closed doors between them and everyone else.

"I had to relearn a number of things. But playing the piano came the easiest. It took me months to figure out how to tie my shoelaces, though."

"Really?" she asked, laughing. He nodded, recalling the frustration of telling his fingers to move, yet them refusing to respond. The more he thought about it, the less they had wanted to work.

Edward pushed himself off of the counter and walked past her to the bed, sitting down on the end.

"Yeah, I'd had my automail for...oh, I dunno, almost a year before I got it down. Al used to laugh at me about it, and whenever I ran to our nanny, so upset I was practically crying, she would tell me that it was okay, that I didn't even need to know how to tie shoes to get on in life. But it wasn't that I couldn't learn _how_ to do it, it was just that I couldn't, even though I knew that I could, and that I'd been doing it for years before my accident."

It took Edward a moment to realize just how much he had told her, how easily the words had spilled out. Winry was looking at him with a gentle smile on her face, like she was truly happy at having heard about a bit of his life before St. Bradley's.

"It was kind of like that for me after I stopped taking piano lessons," she said, sitting down in one of the chairs, flipped around so that she was watching him over the back. "For the _life_ of me, I couldn't play the first movement of _Sonata K 545_, even though that had been, like, my best song before."

"Why'd you stop?" he asked, hardly surprised to hear that she had given up lessons for a time. He could tell during their first practice that she really hadn't played in a long time, even though most of the habits were still there.

"Oh, I dunno," she said, shrugging and looking at the floor. "My parents died, and suddenly...the piano didn't seem that important anymore. I kind of had a wake-up call, you know? My parents were gone, Granny needed me around the house and at the shop, and so...I stopped. I still played sometimes, but then when I found out Granny had cancer..."

"It just didn't matter," he said, and she nodded, blinking away what he was certain were tears. He knew that feeling, knew far too well. After his mother had died, there had been any number of things that Edward just found himself not caring about anymore.

"Yeah," she murmured. "It didn't matter. I knew Granny wanted me to keep playing, but she never asked. Sometimes she would put on some disc left by my parents, and I could just tell she secretly hoped that one day I could play these devilish pieces by Mozart and Beethoven or, heaven have mercy, _Chopin._"

"Hey, what's wrong with Chopin?" he asked, grinning at her. Winry rolled her eyes, making a sour face.

"I _hate_ Chopin," she admitted, making Edward blink.

"But, I've got you playing a Chopin piece!" he laughed, and she gave a look of embarrassed surprise, like she had sworn to herself that she would never let him know about her feelings towards the song.

"Yeah, well...I don't like it."

"Then why didn't you _say_ something?" Edward demanded, unable to keep the laughter from coming out. It all suddenly made sense, the lack of progress she had been making with _Polonaise, _while all of her other songs had excelled, or the way her shoulders always seemed to hunch whenever he pulled the piece out. He had always just figured that she found the piece hard and didn't want to work on it, but this was a lot simpler and infinitely more amusing.

"I didn't want you to think I would slink out of anything I didn't like!" Winry retorted, blushing.

"Yeah, well, you certainly didn't like our piano lessons for a long time, but you didn't skip out on them. Clearly that's not a legitimate reason."

Winry shifted, lips pressed tight against each other.

"So tell me about hating Chopin," Edward continued, biting down on the rest of his laughter. "I mean, I've _heard_ of people not liking him, but I've never actually _met_ one."

"It's just...I dunno, he's overrated. Yeah, he knew what he was doing, but...I just don't like him."

Outside, the rain was still pouring down, spattering Edward's windows and only serving to make the atmosphere inside warmer, more friendly. The sky was completely dark, though the street lamps beyond the school wall pushed back at the murk with a yellow-orange glow.

"Why'd Pinako play him around the house, then?"

"Oh, he was my mom's favorite composer," Winry said, leaning back in her chair while she held onto it with her hands. He looked at her, a little surprised.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Every Sunday, she would pull out all of her CDs by him and play them all in a row, and my dad would take me and we'd dance all around the house," she told him, eyes clearly not looking at Edward, but into the past back in Resembool, when she still had everyone she cared about.

"When my parents went away for the war, Granny kept on playing him every Sunday, just like Mom. By the time they played his funeral march for my parents when they were shipped back...I was just so sick of him I never wanted to even _think _about his songs ever again."

"That's...too bad," Edward said, voice sounding weak. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her, to have to stand there for her parent's funeral, listening to a song by the composer her mother had loved, but also the one Winry hated.

"You know, Chopin had a _really_ sad life," he said after a moment, and Winry gave him a tired smile.

"Tell me about it," she said, shaking her head. "Sickly, had the suckiest love life I have ever heard a real man having, an absolute genius but he probably suffered from it, people not understanding why he did this or didn't do that, doubted whether or not he should pursue music multiple times, and then died of tuberculosis when he was just thirty-nine. That's the saddest thing ever."

Edward gave her a look, a slight smile on his face.

"For someone who doesn't like Chopin, you sure do know a lot about him off the top of your head."

Winry shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. She dropped her eyes to the ground, as though that would make explaining easier.

"My mom, you know? She really, really loved him, and so...I learned more and more about him, so I could tell her about it. She was always working at the hospital, so she didn't have time to go look all this stuff up."

As Winry spoke, a soft smile spread across her face as she thought about easier, happier days. But at the same time, Edward could see that deep sadness in her eyes, the one that had settled over her heart until she had completely and literally broken down in the middle of the road. And it was seeing this sadness in her eyes that made something occur to Edward.

"You don't hate Chopin," he said, and Winry looked up at him, confused.

"I mean, it's not that you hate Chopin's sound or whatever, you just...miss your mom. Sorry if I'm stomping all over this, I'm not trying to, I swear, I just think that you miss her so much that...you don't want to be reminded of something so close to her heart, something so painful."

Winry looked at him for a long moment, considering his words. Her expression was a little confused but not affronted, trying to see if his words fit in place. He watched her shyly, not sure if he should have said anything, then began to panic when tears suddenly appeared in her eyes.

"No, I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to cry anymore!" Winry said, half a laugh in her voice as she turned her head away and wiped at the tears. "I just...I can't help but think that you're right. Gosh, it's a completely stupid thing to do, but I'm doing it!"

She looked back at Edward, a wry smile on her face.

"You know, I used to love him," she confessed, a little embarrassed. "I was going to learn as many of his songs as I possibly could, and then I would play them all for my mom. Totally weird, right?"

"No, I think that's actually pretty cool," Edward said, just relieved that she wasn't crying anymore. "I mean, hey, it's better than saying you'll collect weird bottle caps or whatever. You would be learning and growing along the way."

"Yeah, I guess," Winry agreed, though not sounding completely convinced.

"But people do weird things for people they miss. Like, after my mom died, I drank milk."

"_Milk?_" Winry asked, giving him a look.

"Yeah, I drank milk!"

"What's so special about _that,_ though?"

"Other than the fact that I legitimately hate milk with a _passion_, and have done so ever since I was, like, five?" Winry gave him a look, like she wasn't quite sure if he were joking or not.

"Okay, so where did _this_ come from?"

"Yeah, haven't you ever noticed that I don't ever drink it in the cafeteria?" he asked, legitimately surprised.

"I guess I never did," she admitted, shrugging. "Does that mean you don't even eat it with cereal?"

"No, I use powdered milk. Win-win situation."

"Alright. Why did you start drinking it after your mom died?"

"Oh, I dunno. She kind of told me to keep drinking it on her deathbed, so I felt like I had to uphold that."

"Oh," Winry said, looking like she was regretting having asked. She glanced around, probably trying to think of how to ask how exactly his mother had died, which was only the next logical question. He sat there waiting, ready to explain how she had died from complications of having lost her foot in the same accident that he had lost his own arm and leg, ready to let her into that part of his life, the part he hadn't let anyone else into.

"So, uhm, why'd you grow your hair out?"

Edward stared at her, thrown by her random question.

"I - _what?_"

"Your hair," she said, shrugging self consciously. "It's kind of weird for a guy to have hair that long, and I just...I was wondering."

He stared at her, noticing for a second that this was her way of deflecting what might have been a horrendously awkward conversation about his mother had died, and felt that he liked her all the better for it. Winry clearly wasn't the type to push things when she thought it wasn't absolutely necessary. But still, she had chosen to talk about his _hair_? That was kind of pitiful.

"I just felt like growing it," he said, playing along. Winry gave him a flat look, shaking her head slightly.

"Right, that's the _only_ reason why your hair is past shoulder length. I mean, you take care of it, so it obviously can't be that you can't be bothered to cut it, so what is it? Teen rebellion?"

"Yep. You caught me. I've actually been waiting to give myself an under cut, buy a dog collar and paint my finger nails black."

"Yeah, _okay_," Winry scoffed, shifting in her chair and now resigned to the fact she wouldn't get a proper answer out of him. The conversation wandered after that, a combination of an exchange of opinions and memories. Everything seemed linked somehow, as they wandered from whether or not it really mattered how long a boy's hair was, to Winry's odd obsession with mechanics, onto certain hobbies being stress relievers, to a thousand other things. Sometimes Winry told Edward about her life back in Resembool, where everyone was either a farmer, worked in or ran one of the mom and pop shops in town, and how it all seemed to be stuck a couple decades in the past. She explained about the letter writing to Harry, and he laughed, recalling her perched just outside that very building, scribbling away on a piece of notebook paper in the cold, wet grass.

In turn, Edward told her about martial arts and his time learning with Izumi Curtis, eccentric and sickly fighting expert. Winry looked a little frightened at the stories of her extreme methods he recounted, but seemed completely at ease when she talked about her grandmother's strange ways and terrible habits, which she displayed right in front of the customers.

Eventually, he noticed that it was creeping towards seven, but Edward didn't care. He liked being able to just sit there, talking with Winry and helping to chase away the sorrow she had nearly drowned in. Her face became so animated when she spoke, something he had noticed when she stumbled onto the subject of automail, but now it spread to everything. Winry spoke with her hands, and he kept finding his eyes drawn to them as they flitted about in the air in front of her. She had pushed up the sleeves to her large cream sweater so that it hung around her elbows, making Winry's forearms seem slight in comparison to the bulk. Once or twice Edward found himself marveling at the fact that such delicate arms and hands were capable of springing across the piano and creating such emotional pieces of music, or, moreover, crafting elegant pieces of machinery out of such mundane bits of metal.

Winry stopped talking, and he blinked, refocusing. He had only been half listening just then, and the sudden lack of sound was more jolting than had she snapped at him. Edward expected her to be scowling at him, aware that he hadn't been rapt with what she had been saying, but instead, she had a troubled and serious look on her face.

"Ed...how did...how did your mom die?" Winry asked hesitantly, biting her lip as if to say that he didn't have to answer if he didn't want to. A part of him was a little bit surprised she had asked, as he had supposed that she wouldn't after the perfect opportunity had passed, but at the same time, he knew Winry would never be able to leave something so important in the shadows. He gave her a sad smile, shrugging.

"She got sick. Her leg was seriously injured, and so that dragged her down, but then this flu went round and her immune system was so low, and then...there wasn't really anything we could do. The entire time, though, she was worrying me, making sure I didn't get sick as well and have the same thing happen."

"Same thing happen...was that around the time that you - that your arm and leg-?"

"Yeah," he admitted, getting up from the bed. He wanted to tell Winry what had happened, but Edward knew that he would never be able to do it sitting down, staying still.

"I told you before that me and Al lived out in the country as kids, and that was because we mostly lived with our mom. Hohenheim spent most of his time here in Central, looking after the company and crap like that," he said, walking over to the kitchen. Winry's eyes followed him, intent on his story.

"Mom had tried living in the city with him, but she had been born and raised out in a little farming community, and she could never really be happy in the city. So, about a year before I was born, Hohenheim set her up back in her home town with a nice little cottage. Despite everything, I've always been a little impressed that he let her go where she was happy. I mean, he messed up on a _lot_ of stuff, and I would have expected him to demand that she stay here with him and be the perfect little wife, but he didn't do that."

Edward knew that his tone wasn't the warmest thing when speaking about his father, and Winry's expression was disapproving as she listened to him talk, but after nearly sixteen years of having watched his father, he felt it was justified. Hohenheim may have been lauded as a wonderful, habitual philanthropist that donated large sums of money to charities and was considered eccentric because he frequently helped people out on the street, but he had never given that much energy and love to his own children. He had been mostly absent from their lives, leaving them to raise themselves, though the staff at Hohenheim Manor certainly made an effort to help them out as much as possible. Most of the interactions Edward remembered having with his father were of brisk exchanges of small talk in the hall or where ever their paths happened to cross. They were short on Hohenheim's part because he was usually on his way somewhere else, to his office to receive a call, out the door to go to a meeting, and they were short of Edward's part as he gradually came to expect nothing from his father and wanted to limit any false hope a few extra seconds of conversation might provide.

"Were they separated?" Winry asked, brows furrowed in curiosity. Edward gave a lopsided smile, shaking his head as he pulled a glass from one of the cabinets. He was honestly surprised that she hadn't asked whether or not they were truly even married, as several less tactful people had done in the past, but then, Winry was one of those wonderful optimistic people when it came to a random person's decency.

"Naw, they still loved each other _a lot_, Mom just couldn't stand the city and his company couldn't handle him not holding their hand for too long. He came down to see her over weekends, sometimes a little more often, and then over the summer he did his best to be there as much as possible. But by the time Al was, oh, I dunno, five, he couldn't get away to see us."

"That's...a lot of work," Winry said, half a laugh in her voice. "I have to wonder why they even bothered _doing_ all of that. I mean, I get _why_, but it's kind of weird, ya know?"

"I'm glad they did it," Edward said, sipping from the cup of orange juice he had just poured. "You want a drink, by the way?"

"Yeah, thanks," she said, getting up and walking over to the kitchen. "Why were you glad they went through all of that?"

"Well, it meant that Al and I got to grow up as kids," Edward said simply, resting his cup on the counter. "If we'd been in the city, we would have had to be all proper and dressed up and stuff like that. But as it was, we could run around and explore and have fun. Plus, people didn't treat us like Van Hohenheim's children, we were just Trisha Elric's kids."

"Okay, quick question," Winry said, holding up her hand as she picked up the container of orange juice. "Why do you and Al go by Elric?"

"It's...the name we've always gone by. My mom signed us up as Elrics for school, it's on all of our legal papers, everything. I think it goes back to us just being people, and not a billionaire's kids. And no, I wouldn't go by 'Hohenheim' if Mom hadn't set it up like that," he said, reading the question in her face. "Imagine what a stuck up ass I would sound like if my name were 'Edward Hohenheim'."

"Fair point," she laughed, nodding in agreement. "So, you guys grew up as just kids. What happened, though, what was the calamity that changed everything?"

Edward looked down at his cup, thinking back. It was strange because she was right, in unintentionally so. Up until that moment, up until his limbs had been torn off, he and Al had been just kids, like Winry said. Afterwards, they had been the poor boys that had lost so much.

"It was during the summer, I was around nine, Al eight, and we out playing. I mean, running all over the countryside like kids in a movie. The whole place was ours, and we did what we liked. Well, one day we decided that we should go out and play on this hill overlooking a train track, because it was up above everything and we felt like we could see the ends of the earth."

Edward picked up his glass and walked back to the bed, again needing to move while he spoke. He was aware the Winry watched his every move, though her soft blue eyes didn't look critical or wary. Just interested, a little happy he was sharing, and sad because she knew how it all ended. That was probably the worst thing about hearing the past of someone you knew. No matter what, you always knew how it all ended.

He sat down, and after a moment, the girl followed him. The bed sank under her weight, making him tilt ever so slightly towards her.

"We were playing with a Frisbee, and I thought I'd be slick and throw it too high for Al. Of course he missed it and it went down on to the train track below," he said, his voice growing tight. The idea of stopping, giving the briefest explanation possible crossed his mind, but what right did he have to do that? Winry had already given him so much, even before today. She had dealt with his paranoia and fear and general dislike of growing close to people, had told him about her family and shared little bits of her past with him, and Edward had given nothing in return. The very least he could do would be to balance the scales, have an equal exchange.

He was speaking with his hands, he realized, even though he was still holding his glass of orange juice. Edward paused, leaning over to put it down on the edge of the table, then continued.

"So Al ran down to go get it, rather than stand around arguing with me over whose fault it was and whose responsibility it was to get it back, because a train was coming. He had plenty of time," Edward told her, turning his eyes up from the floor to look at Winry. Her brows were furrowed, presumably having guessed the ending but not quite sure how it all hooked up yet. "Al had tons of time to get the Frisbee and come back, and we could have gone on to do something else. But his foot got stuck between one of the rails. I dunno how it happened, one second he was coming back and the next he was stuck. I guess - I guess he twisted his foot and got it jammed or something, but he was calling for me to come help him. And so I ran down there, a little irritated because he was _always_ needing my help, for everything. I can't believe that was what I was thinking about at the time. A train was coming and my little brother had his foot stuck in the rails, and I was upset he needed my help."

Edward put a hand over his eyes in exasperation and shame at himself. A thousand times he had thought about what might have happened had he not gone down to help Alphonse, had just left him to fend for himself.

Winry seemed to sense what he was feeling, and placed a tentative hand over his. He glanced at her, giving a fleeting smile in appreciation. Edward swallowed, then forced himself to keep talking.

"So I got down there, and finally helped him get his foot out, but his shoe was still stuck. I told him to go on, I'd get it, but by the time I got it out, it was a little too late. The train was right there, and the way the tracks were set up, there was a fence on one side and a stack of wood planks on the other. I couldn't go and climb either without getting hit, so I started to run back down the tracks. I guess...I guess that my mom had started looking for me and Al, and she saw what had happened, because next thing I heard her shouting and she was running towards me."

He grit his teeth, wondering why it was suddenly so difficult to tell her. It had been so easy to begin with, the words flowing out about his parents and how his mother had died, so Edward had thought everything leading up to that point would be easy, but this...this was a nightmare. Winry waited, silent, completely ready to understand if he chose to stop speaking.

"So I had this little window to get off the tracks, because the train was behind me, and then there was the tunnel ahead. And my mom, she was right there, and she grabbed me then ran back, but...I got caught," he said.

Winry gave a small gasp of understanding, hands jumping to her mouth. Edward waited, trying to ignore the memory of sudden, blinding pain of two limbs being torn away as they were caught between a brick wall and a speeding train. It had been so terrible in that portion of a second that he hadn't even been able to make his vocal chords form a scream, but he had most certainly been screaming in his mind.

"Mom got hurt, too, she lost part of her foot. Thankfully...thankfully someone had come with her, and so they kept Al from seeing it, but he was just up the hill, he knew exactly what had happened. They went down and got me wrapped up, then put me in the back of a truck and sped me off to the hospital. Luckily we weren't too far away, and the doctors could operate when we got there. It was so bad that they had to put me into automail surgery without even asking, just to keep me from bleeding out."

"Oh my gosh, that's why!" she gasped suddenly, making Edward jump. He stared at her, confused as she gave a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, I just...when I looked at your arm in the shop for the first time, I noticed that you had these great big messy scars around the socket," she admitted. "I'd _thought _that the way you lost your arm had been rough and not an amputation like they normally do, probably because of excessive bleeding, but I...I never imagined it was like that."

Edward raised his eyebrows, a little impressed. She had gotten all that at just a quick look at his shoulder? Winry certainly lived up to her name, if that was the case.

"Is...is your leg like that?"

"Nah, that one wasn't so bad. I actually lost it just below the knee, but because of the way the bone had been damaged, they had to cut it off to make the surgery work."

"And all of that happened when you were just nine," Winry murmured, hand at her mouth. Edward flopped back onto the bed, a flat smile on his lips.

"Yep, lucky me. _Everybody_ in town came to see me once they were sure I wasn't going to bite it, telling me how sorry they were at my loss, how happy they were that I could at least have prosthetic limbs, that it would only make me stronger in the long run. Eventually I got so sick of it that I realized I wouldn't be able to take spend three years hobbling around being rehabilitated, so I powered through it in just a year."

"_What?" _Winry gasped, making Edward roll his eyes.

"Good grief, woman, calm down."

"Are you _serious_? You made it through the recovery from automail surgery in only a _year_?"

"_Yes,_ I'm serious, and you're overreacting."

"Edward, you're telling me you were just nine and you made it through the debilitating pain of losing two limbs _and_ having your nerves and muscles fry and wear away at themselves until they finally made a proper connection with the automail and made a cohesive unit?" she demanded in a single breath, and he gave half a shrug. When she put it like that, and not in the gentle discouragements from the doctors that had been tending him, things sounded a lot more intense.

"Uh, yeah."

Winry flopped back beside him, an arm over her eyes.

"Edward Elric, you are a monster."

He laughed at that, a little embarrassed, but a little pleased at the same time. There weren't many people that had been able to grasp the magnitude of the situation. The only other person that had known the whole thing had probably been Pinako, and she had very rarely let on how impressed she was with him, but with Winry, it was palpable in the very air.

Winry glanced back behind her, then scooted up to the head of his bed.

"I'm stealing one of your pillows, 'kay?" she said, grabbing one and then wriggling back to his side, resting her head on it.

"Hey, that's-"

"Oh, shut up and get your own," she said, making a face. Edward rolled his eyes good naturedly, biting down on the comment that that _was_ his pillow, but did as she said and reached up for his own. They lay on their sides, facing each other and grinning like children. He didn't know why Winry was smiling, but he was because he had never felt so light before, so relieved from all of the weight dragging him down and down. Edward had never told anyone his story before, just handed out the bare facts when needed, or more often, said nothing at all. He had always worried about how people would act when he finally _did _tell them, but with Winry, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She didn't think he was strange for having gone through what he did, but also didn't think he needed mountains of pity for having lost nearly everything. She looked at him with the eyes of another survivor, someone who hadn't lost quite the same things as him, but had still lost so much it was difficult to breathe some times.

Edward smiled at her, suddenly glad that she had accepted his offer to come back with him, not for her sake, but for his. Winry smiled back, looking a little shy.

"So...what happened after that," she said after a moment, and he sighed.

"I recovered, and...my mom got worse. This terrible flu was sweeping the area, and like I said, she wasn't that strong and died. It was just after I fully recovered from surgery, so I had to go to her funeral in a wheelchair. Al was so upset, because he was convinced that if he hadn't gotten his foot stuck then none of it would have happened, but who knows. If any number of things had been different, she might still be here today. Or, she still might have gotten sick and died. We can't really ever know."

"And is that when you went to live with your dad?" she asked, mumbled it, really. Edward gave a dark smile, shrugging.

"Yeah. I got out of the hospital a couple of days before the funeral, so me and Al just stayed with a friend until Hohenheim came down to pick us up." He clenched his jaw, still absolutely disgusted that his father, the man that had claimed to love Edward's mother enough to hand her the world on a platter if she asked for it, hadn't even taken the time to attend his wife's funeral.

If Winry picked up in the anger in his voice, or noticed that Edward's father had gone down to pick him and his brother up, rather than stayed with them immediately after Trisha's death, she didn't comment. She just closed her eyes, asking "So you went to Central?"

Her voice was low and tired, and a part of Edward whispered that it was getting late and she had gone through a lot, but he didn't want her to leave. The thought of being left alone after such wonderful, happy hours with a friend made him feel cold. Edward was tired of being alone.

"Mm-hm. He packed up our stuff, put us on a train and then we were suddenly living in a mansion. It was kind of like a dream come true, because every kid thinks it would be awesome to have a fleet of servants at their beck and call, and have the money to buy whatever they wanted, but it was kind of surreal to Al and me. We'd known that we'd always _had_ the money, but Mom had always insisted on only getting what we needed, and just a little extra. Probably a good thing she raised us and not Hohenheim. If we'd have asked, he would have gotten us anything."

"You don't sound too pleased with that," Winry noted, yawning.

"Yeah, well, just because you give a person the world on a string, it doesn't mean you're taking care of him," he grumbled. She let out a tired laugh, shaking her head.

"Only a rich kid could turn up their nose at money."

"Same goes for you," he shot back, pushing her gently on the arm. "You're coming into_ two_ fortunes when you turn eighteen, and yet you're always going on about how you can't buy love and affection."

"But I've never denied that it can certainly help," countered Winry, making him give a worn laugh. "You know, I don't think your dad is as cold and distant and terrible as you make him seem. I think you're gonna realize that someday, and then you'll feel like an ass."

"Sure. On my death bed, I'll have this epiphany that he's actually a great guy, and didn't leave his two traumatized and emotionally damaged children to their own devices, giving random orphans from Creta more time than his own kids."

"Yup. Like I said, you'll feel like an ass," she said with a small smile. Edward grinned at her, shaking his head.

He told her more about his childhood living in Central, exploring the mansion with Al and learning how to fight as a form of rehabilitation when he got his automail. Edward recounted stories of Pinako coming up every month, fixing his automail and telling him about her family and the countryside. She had known that those were his favorites, as they reminded him of the life in the country he craved so desperately, and indulged him with tales about horses and mountains and wide open fields. And even though he didn't tell her this, Edward thought about the stories about Pinako's granddaughter, whom he now knew was the girl beside him. He liked thinking that this level headed mechanic and part time pianist was the emotional, rebellious kid from the old woman's stories, wreaking barely contained havoc across her hometown and terrifying the boys at her school senseless with threats of constructing robots to pulverize them, should they cross her.

Winry had fallen asleep part of the way through, but Edward kept speaking, the words finally working down to a whisper, then dying away completely, left to just his mind. She looked so absolutely peaceful beside him, curled up on his bed and resting on his pillow. Peaceful and pretty.

He had thought that back when he'd first met her. When he'd met her officially at least, and not when they'd been snapping at each other in the practice hall after she'd walked in on him. Edward had decided to shove that thought away as he had begun to teach her, as he'd been too angry to make any concessions in her favor, and then he'd been too uneasy in his standing with her to acknowledge something like her looks, but it had always been there, waiting to be recognized once again.

_You sentimental fool,_ Edward thought to himself, running his hand over his face and then closing his eyes.

**_AN Okay, I am so incredibly sorry that this chapter took so long, but I was so, so, so, so blocked when it came to writing it that it ceased to be funny. I mean, I knew what I wanted to happen and even what they were going to talk about, but I had no idea how to get them to do it, or what exactly to say. But, this chapter is a behemoth and the last few thousand words came from a three hour chunk of solid writing, so go me. I hope some of your voracious Edwin needs are filled.  
><em>**

**_AWH YES 25th CHAPTER.  
><em>**

**_Oh, and for just about all the piano music, look for Yundi Li's version of it (especially the Chopin). He's kind of the model in my head for Edward playing._**

_For Heaven's Sake - Grover Washington Jr._  
><em>When I Fall in Love - Nat King Cole<em>  
><em>Aguas de Marco - Elis Regina<em>  
><em>Line for Lyons - Chet Baker<em>  
><em>My Yard - Jamie Cullum<em>  
><em>When It's Cold Outside - John Legend<em>  
><em>La Campanella - Chopin<em>_  
><em>Sunshine - Regina Spektor<em>_


	26. Some Lessons

_**AN OH MY GOSH I UPDATED AND IT'S ONLY BEEN A WEEK AND A HALF. I am just so tickled pink that I have FINALLY reached this point, because I thought this chapter up about a year ago, and guys, that's a long time to wait for a scene you just really really really want to write! But we're here finally, and asdfjkl; I'm just so happy.**_

_**And you guys! Wow, floods of love from me to you! I'm absolutely stunned by the reception the last chapter got, but I guess that just shows the passion of the Edwin fans out there :'D A lot of you asked if Edward and Winry were going to be walked in on in this chapter, which I found kind of funny and awful. Can you imagine that level of embarrassment? Honestly, I'm not that cruel!**_

_**Also, a couple of questions that I was asked by anons- yes, the Royai will be coming back in about a chapter or two. Nothing too intense, just touching base with them and a bit more development. Also, there are such things as electric cellos. Basically assume that all instruments have an electric equivalent. **_

Winry's eyes felt gritty when she awoke, making her grimace. She opened them for a second, before immediately closing them at the bright morning light smacking her in the face. The gritty sensation persisted, taking all of her attention before she snapped them back open, finally realizing that she wasn't in the right room.

"What?" she said aloud, voice raspy as she sat upright, staring at the walls around her and struggling to piece it together. Only when she saw Edward lying beside her did she remember the events of the night before. Winry stared at him a moment, blinking and feeling all sleepiness being chased from her as realized she had technically stayed out all night.

She flopped back down on the bed, laughter bubbling out of her helplessly. She had stayed out all night, moreover, slept on the same bed as a boy. A few months ago, she might have been absolutely mortified and frantically searching for a phone to call her grandmother, but now all she could do was think about how _funny_ the situation was. At the back of her mind, a voice whispered that she had better be heading out before something bad happened, but she shushed it, thinking that Edward would never do something indecent. As rude and standoffish and even mean as he could be, Edward was a gentleman at heart.

Winry looked up at the ceiling, letting her laughter dissipate into giggles. She really couldn't even remember having fallen asleep last night, just how comfortable the bed was, how even and gentle Edward's voice. Even and sad, remembering what had been his broken yet peaceful childhood.

"What exactly is so funny," he mumbled after a moment, making her look at him. He hadn't opened his eyes, hadn't even moved from where his arm had been mostly thrown over his face. Winry cracked a smile at the slightly disheveled state of his hair, and said "Nothing really, I just...I stayed the night."

"Yes, you did," he grunted, lips hardly even moving as he spoke. Winry's smile grew even bigger, then she rolled onto her side.

There was at least a foot of space between her and Edward, Winry noticed, a swathe of no man's land that she found immensely comforting. She hadn't lost her sense _entirely. _Maybe she was only so comfortable with the situation because, while they had in fact fallen asleep together, they weren't actually _in_ the bed, nor even laying down in the proper spots. Rather, the two of them had fallen asleep with their legs hanging off the edge, heads placed halfway up on the mattress. Or at least, Edward did. At some point in the night Winry had managed to draw her legs up against her body, only to swing them back down when she woke up.

She glanced back at Edward, examining his position. He was still curled in on himself, shielding his face from the sunlight pouring through the blinds they had both neglected to close the night before. A wriggle of worry went through Winry's chest, but the window faced an empty area of the grounds, vacant of other dorms and most trails. The nearest path wandered from the music building to a side gate, and even that was a remote smudge of tan in the distance.

"Not a morning person?" she asked after a moment, glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand. It read just after seven forty, around the time she usually woke up.

"_Hell_ no," Edward said, a vague, unamused laugh passing his lips at the thought. Winry sat back up, tilting her head. She wasn't exactly a morning person either, as she stumbled around like the dead for the first ten minutes or so after having been woken up, but after that she was generally ready to go.

"When do you typically wake up?"

"Four-thirty," he answered, making Winry choke on a curse.

"_What?_" she gasped after a moment, earning a smile from him. "In the morning? That's insane!"

"I've got no other choice if I want to get into the gym before everyone else. It takes me...dunno, maybe an hour to get ready? Then I practice piano for a little bit, then go to the gym, then come back to change."

"That's awful," Winry whispered, still stunned by his horrifying morning schedule. And by the reason he went to such extremes, even if he didn't say it. Edward probably went to the school weight room to avoid the looks his automail would attract if he went to a public gym. Again, for about the thousandth time, Winry's heart ached at how much he went through to hide his automail. Now that she knew the details of how he had gotten it, she was hardly surprised he didn't want anyone to know about it. People would undoubtedly ask about it, wonder how he had gotten it. There was no way he wanted to delve into that particular story every time someone too blunt for their own good became curious.

And...if she was honest, Edward probably saw it as punishment for being so reckless as a child, and the cross he had to bear for putting his mother in the position to be injured and then later die. At the worst, he quite possibly blamed himself for all the misfortune he and the rest of his family had been forced to bear.

"It's not so bad, I guess. I go to sleep ridiculously early, so it evens it all out. If I didn't do that, if I just slept in, Izumi would probably use me as target practice with her butcher knives and my arm as a sharpening block."

Edward had a dull humor to his voice that said he was starting to wake up, and even went so far as to crack an eye and send her a dry smile.

"You know, it would be so much easier for you if you just went to the gym after school like _normal people_," she pointed, feeling that, even though he had probably thought of or even done this, it needed to be said.

"Mm, couldn't stand the brainless grease monkeys that hung around the place. No offense."

"I don't think anyone has accused me of being a grease monkey," Winry grinned, giving him a poke.

"Well they have now," he muttered, and she rolled her eyes.

He gave a groan and sat up beside her, eyes still shut as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Crap, I'm sore. Okay, so remind me never to fall asleep at the _end_ of the bed again, okay?" he said, casting her a wry smile. Winry laughed and nodded, then glanced around the room, wondering what she was supposed to do now. Beside her, Ed was re-tying his hair, letting it swish around his shoulders briefly before being tugged back into a braid. She watched him for a moment, then stopped, self-conscious.

"So, uhm, you wanna have breakfast?" he asked after a moment, and then Winry realized that she was actually starving.

"Yeah, I guess," she said, suddenly feeling that she might be intruding a little too far on Edward's hospitality. He had taken her home when she was hysteric, laid his soul bare to her and then let her stay the night when she passed out on his bed. Even though he had offered, she wasn't quite sure if it was actually something she was allowed to accept.

"You _guess_?" Ed laughed, giving her a look. Winry shrugged self-consciously, wondering how she was supposed to express her worry.

"I just...you've done so much for me already. I don't want to wear out my welcome."

He gave a laugh, shaking his head. Again, Winry noticed how _relaxed_ he was, how utterly at ease with her. They had moved on past being stiff and throwing daggers at each other at every opportunity, instead settling into an easy friendship, but this was different. Did it have to do with the fact that they had practically exchanged life stories in the course of one night? Did that qualify them for some strange bond that surpassed all other relationships a person could have?

_Oh shut up,_ Winry told herself as Edward walked around the bed to the bathroom. _You're over thinking things and that's going to make everything awkward and then you'll probably say something stupid and ruin everything. Do you want that, to go back to that awful mess from before?_

The idea made Winry hurt a little inside, because what she had with Ed...she didn't want to ever let it go. Maybe it was because it felt like every meaningful relationship she had made was slowly being stripped away until she had nothing of consequence, or maybe it was because Edward was such a _dynamic_ person. Whenever she was with him, she felt swept along, wrapped up in the energy that sometimes poured out of him.

She was always struck with that energy whenever they were having their piano lesson and he would begin to explain something to her. His eyes would light up as he told her about some composer's background, or played a small passage for her. And in that moment, he would look so completely happy, like that was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Sometimes when this happened, Winry found herself wondering how on earth it had taken her so long to become friends with this boy.

When taken at a glance, he seemed like the kind of person everyone would love right away, with the way he loved music so much that he could spend hours at a piano, and how he helped everyone with absolutely no desire for self gain, or how he was so heart breakingly self-conscious of his automail, so terrified of being rejected for it that he took extreme measures to keep it hidden from as many people as possible. But Edward was so much more than a philanthropic music fanatic with worries about being different, he was a hot head and blunt and proper and slightly abrasive and aggressively compassionate and easy going and held onto a grudge and was so, so wonderfully kind. By a tragic twist of fate, he had been entwined in her life before she'd even known him, with the stories he had heard about her and her family from Pinako, and then how they had been thrown together when she transferred to St. Bradley's. And now they had been tied together even more firmly, in ways she could hardly put into words.

"Hey," Edward called from the bathroom, jerking Winry from her line of thought. She bit her cheek, praying that she wouldn't start blushing.

"Uh, yeah?"

"If you want to brush your teeth, I've got an extra one," he said, holding a packaged toothbrush out to her. She nodded, giving a smile and standing up. After having put both Ed and their relationship under a microscope like that...Winry didn't really know what she was supposed to feel. All that she knew was that it was strong and deep, centered in her stomach and wrapped up in every little thing they had done together.

She walked into the bathroom, taking the toothbrush from him. As she opened it, Winry felt increasingly awkward as he picked up his own toothbrush, put toothpaste on it and then began brushing. She mimicked his motions, frantically wondering if she was expected to say or do something. She brushed hurriedly, about ready to claw her way out of the bathroom if necessary by the time she was rinsing her mouth. Edward seemed oblivious to her discomfort, steadily brushing away.

As Winry rinsed her toothbrush, she noticed that the bathroom was just as neat as the rest of his dorm. A few things seemed haphazardly set down on the counter, like a comb and a bottle of vitamins, but otherwise everything seemed to be placed just so.

Edward brushed past her, murmuring an 'excuse me' and making her shift out of his way. She quietly followed him, toothbrush in hand. Glancing around, she set it down on the table by her sweater, then turned to the kitchen.

"So, what do you want?" Edward asked, opening the fridge. "Pancakes, waffles, eggs...you pick."

"Uhm...what about omelets?" she asked, and he looked at her.

"You know, I don't think I've had those in ages. I used to eat them all the time, but I just...stopped, for some reason." She grinned, glad to have picked something he liked.

"Omelets it is, then," she said, walking into the kitchen with him. "Here, let me make them."

"What? No, you're my guest," he said, turning around to look at her, genuinely shocked by the idea. Winry rolled her eyes, taking the small carton of eggs out of his hands.

"Yeah, but you've already done _everything _for me. Come on, just let me make breakfast." He looked at her, eyes locked onto hers for a brief moment. In that time, Winry was sure she saw something there, uncertain and tentative. Then he broke eye contact, raising his hands in a sort of shrug.

"Fine. All I'm saying is that if we die of food poisoning, it's on your head."

"Oh, _thanks_," she laughed, setting the eggs on the counter. "But you're still going to have to help me. I don't know a _thing_ about this kitchen."

"Bowls are in the upper left hand cabinet," he said, pulling out a spatula and a fork and handing it to her. "And the skillet's in that cupboard in front of you."

Winry grunted a thank you, cracking eggs and placing them in a bowl.

"What do you want in your omelet? Cheese, or do you have a special alternative for that, too?"

"Cheese is alright," he laughed, opening the fridge again. "Damn, I just went shopping and yet I don't really have anything for omelets."

"What _do_ you have?" she asked, and he pulled out a block of cheese, green onions, spinach and a tomato.

"That's about it. Do you want me to start cutting these?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. Is there anything you don't want?" Winry asked, thumbing through the drawers, trying to find a fork. On the first try she found a cheese grater, which was then followed by a fork a drawer later.

"No spinach," he said, pulling a knife out of the cutting block.

Winry nodded, starting to grate the cheese while he washed and then cut the vegetables..

Winry glanced back at him to ask where the cooking spray was, then stopped dead as she watched him work. He was working expertly with the knife, yet hardly seemed to be paying attention.

"Holy crap, Ed, where'd you learn to do that?" Winry demanded, making him jump.

"_Sonovabitch__,_ Winry, don't yell at me when I'm using a knife!" he gasped, turning to stare at her and forcefully setting the knife down.

"Oh, uhm, sorry, but oh my gosh, who learns to use a knife like that?!" she said, unable to get over the way he had sliced and chopped effortlessly. Even though it was something as simple as cutting vegetables, Winry could tell that he could more than handle himself when it came to knife work. She also had the sneaking suspicion that if she examined the pieces he had cut, they would be practically identical in size.

"What, oh, I learned it when I was training with Izumi," he told her, reluctantly returning to his work. "She and her husband run a butcher shop, and she made me and Al help out when we trained with her. After a few weeks, I just became really good at it. You should see Al, though. Since, you know, he had both hands, he can do all the fancy stuff. The last couple of weeks before school started he became obsessed with learning to debone a chicken in eighteen seconds."

"Did he ever manage it?"

"Not quite. We had to put a ban on it after a while, though. There's only so much chicken a person can eat before they never want to look at it again."

"I guess that's true," Winry laughed, then remembered her original purpose in turning around. "Oh, and where's the cooking spray?"

"Hm? Over there," he said, pointing. Winry pulled it out of the cupboard, then sprayed down the pan and turned on the stove. Edward walked up beside her, holding the cutting board in front of him.

"Do you want me to just put it in?" he asked, gesturing at the bowl holding the beaten eggs.

"Yeah, put in whatever you want in your omelet, then put in the rest for me."

"Alright, then," he said, dropping everything but the spinach in. As Winry leaned over to grab the salt and pepper from the cabinet the cooking spray had been, she brushed against Edward. It lasted less than a second, but it made Winry hyper aware of how close he was in such a tiny space. The vague feeling of claustrophobia came back to her, making Winry want to shy back and put a good few feet between the two of them. She felt herself blushing and prayed that he didn't notice, wondering frantically what on earth was making her act this way.

Edward shifted back, walking over to the sink and rinsing his hands.

"Need anything else?" he asked, and she shook her head, eyes on the pan as she poured some of the eggs onto it. They sizzled and popped, an absolutely delicious sound.

"Nope, I'm good," she said, voice sounding weird in her ears.

Edward retreated out of the kitchen, sitting at the table. Winry was thankful that he backed up a little, but was entirely aware of his alert golden eyes on her, watching her work.

_This is going to awful,_ Winry thought, letting out a slight sigh.

"Are you sure you're not some sort of awful cook," Edward asked, making Winry shoot him a look. She much preferred this, banter was something she could handle. Being close and accidentally touching was not.

"It's just that people who are good at mechanics or construction or whatever aren't usually good at house holdly things like cooking and cleaning."

"Says the rough and tumble fighter who is a musical prodigy and about the neatest person I've ever seen," she said dryly, flipping the omelet. Edward shrugged, looking out the window.

"Alright, whatever. But I think that's different."

"Of course you do," she said, finishing the omelet. She was about to ask where the plates were when he stood up, walking around her and pulling two out.

"You know, with that attitude you're probably going to get spinach or tomato skin on your teeth as karma," he told her, setting a plate down beside her.

"Yeah right," Winry snorted while he pulled out cups and orange juice. She placed the second omelet on the other plate, turning off the stove and moving the skillet off the heat. She turned around, stopping when she saw he was so close. A part of her knew that he was after the silverware drawer, which she was leaning against, but her mind had at that moment turned into static. She was suddenly and acutely aware of just about everything in the tiny kitchen, the edge of the counter pressing against her, the hum of the fridge, the way his eyelashes were darker than the rest of his hair, borderline brown rather than gold, how close he was to her.

"Your luck's that good, then?" he asked, a slight smile on his face. It was asking if she would move out of his way, but Winry was certain that if she tried letting go of the counter, her legs would utterly give way. It was just a miracle that her voice didn't shake or do something stupid when she responded.

"Definitely. I mean, look at what I've survived so far in this place. There _must_ be some sort of charm on me."

"Oh, I see." That little smile slowly fell from his face as he focused on her, brows furrowing ever so slightly as he concentrated on something. Winry felt frozen as he looked at her, because it felt like he was looking down into her soul and she might break if she moved.

Somehow, when she was struggling to string two proper thoughts together, Winry knew what was going to happen next. It was a fact that just appeared in her head, so that when he leaned down to her, it was hardly a surprise.

Edward kissed her, twice. The first was a light touch, like butterfly wings, then a little harder. The kiss was quiet, tentative, like Edward was asking for permission. He placed his automail hand on the counter beside her, arm pressing into her side. His other hand was easing the spatula out of her fingers, entwining them with his own.

Winry held his hand, felt his grip strengthen as she kissed back. His hand was bigger than her own and warmer, just about the most comforting thing Winry could have experienced at the moment.

The kiss tasted like mint. Mint and hesitation and...sadness. His lips tasted like sorrow.

Then Winry realized that he hadn't been so hesitant because he was asking for permission. It was because he was afraid of being hurt.

As soon as she pieced this together, Edward pulled back. She hadn't realized how hard she'd been pressed into the counter, it hadn't hurt at all. But him pulling away so far, dropping her hand and jerking his body back with his eyes on the floor, that hurt. It felt like a slap in the face.

She couldn't see his face, it was tilted down and hidden by his hair. He brought a hand to his lips, almost brushing them with his metal finger tips, and she stepped forward, hand out and wanting to say something, _anything_

Edward jerked away, shaking his head as if to tell her 'Don't'. She blinked, and the slap suddenly stung, making tears slip into her eyes.

Winry turned around, allowing herself the second of discomposure that it took to pick up the plates and set them on the table. She sat down, not saying anything.

A fork clattered next to her, followed by a cup filled with orange juice set gently beside her. She looked up to see Ed, walking around the table, not looking at her.

The meal was quiet, as sad as their kiss had been.

_**AN *casually slitting the throat of everything you love***_

_Little Foothills Heaven - __Corb__ Lund__  
>But For Now - Jamie Cullum<br>Water & Love - Amanda Mora  
>It Might as Well Be Spring - Jane Monheit<br>_Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson_  
>Chega De Saudade - Sarah Edmonds<br>Some Lessons - Melody Gardot  
>Cupid - Jack Johnson<br>_


	27. DC al Coda

**_AN I think I killed you guys. You gave me over thirty reviews for the last chapter alone, tipping me over the three hundred reviews (OH MY GOSH MY STORY HAS RECEIVED SO MUCH ATTENTION I THINK I'M GONNA PUKE AUGH) and showering me in so much emotion, asdfjkl; I'm kind of embarrassed that I waited so long to update, but it's here now and the story can carry on!_**

**_By the way, the chapter title is a partial abbreviation, in case you want to look it up. It stands for 'da capo al coda' (not da capo al fine as I said earlier, but was caught by a lovely reader), which I think you should reeeeeeally find the meaning of. Call it a bit of foreshadowing ;)_**

Winry zipped up her jacket, shuddering against the cold. Today it seemed to be everywhere, seeping into her very bones. But then, that might have just been the after affects of whatever had happened with Edward.

At first, Winry had written him pulling away off as him being extremely aware of what was and was not acceptable in their situation. Eating breakfast was, kissing in his little kitchen was not. Winry could deal with that, was already brushing away all of the doubts she had felt back in the kitchen as she walked out into the hall, shrugging into her sweater.

In fact, aside from worrying about being spotted as she slipped out of his dorm so early in the morning, Winry felt like she was walking on a cloud. She had had a couple of crushes before, and a boyfriend that had lasted less than two weeks back in the seventh grade, but this...this was so incredibly different. Not only was Edward way more of a firecracker than anyone else she'd ever even considered, but there was just _more_ to him. He had layers upon layers in him, ranging from philanthropy to an intense temper to anxiety of what others thought of him. Plus, as of the night before, he knew more about her than anyone else had, because she had _told_ him, not because he had been there to witness it all. Edward was the only person in the world that she had trusted with all of that knowledge.

And for the next day and a half, it was all okay. The rest of the weekend passed, Winry caught up on her homework, did the laundry, tidied up her room, did the shopping she was supposed to do the day before, and of course, thought about the night she had spent with Edward. Once or twice she had caught herself grinning like an idiot, and was just thankful that or another girl from the dorm wasn't around to ask why.

A part of her was a _bit_ worried as to what it would be like when she saw Edward again, but a prevailing confidence managed to smother most of her trepidation.

That had been nearly five days ago.

On Monday, she had gotten ready for school, made herself breakfast rather than brave the cafeteria, headed off to Beginner's Guitar, skipped through History, glided through Chamber Choir. Then came lunch, which she laughed and talked through, feeling better than she had in a while. She noticed that Edward didn't make an appearance, but then, his stops at the cafeteria were unpredictable at best. Afterwards she had Algebra II, and then her piano lesson with Edward. Her stomach had given an odd sort of wriggle as she walked down the hall to the practice room, unsure of what she would be met with when she saw him.

Nothing. Throughout the entire lesson, Edward acted like nothing had happened. Winry had been surprised at first, but then decided it was him being professional and not leading her on in a small, enclosed and very private place. He responded to her sparse small talk, but focused on the lesson, which was fine. It was also fine that he didn't go over and talk to her during their English class, because they sat on opposite sides of the room and she had used her break time to ask the teacher about an assignment due at the end of the week.

It was a little less fine, however, when his casual manner persisted the next day, and the next, and then the next. A part of her was absolutely angry at him for not doing _anything._ At this point, Winry really would have preferred it if he leaped on her during one of their piano lessons and tried tearing her clothes off because then, at least, she would have known that he even felt_ something._

But as it was, she had received nothing. Not encouragement, not discouragement, nothing, absolutely nothing. If anything, Winry was getting less in the way of interaction with Edward than she had before. She still saw him just as much as she had before, so that wasn't an excuse, which began filling her with panic as well as anger as the second day passed.

Winry wondered if he was expecting her to do something, like it was some chess game and he had made his move and had clicked the timer. The thought seemed ridiculous, but at the same time, wasn't that what she was doing? Sitting around, waiting for him to advance while she did nothing? By the fourth day, she was seriously wondering if his lack of interaction was because he hadn't received anything from her, and had interpreted that as a sign to not proceed any further?

No, she told herself firmly, that was _not_ the case. When he had kissed her, she had kissed back. Edward had been the one to pull away for no reason, not her. It was his job to fix it, not hers. But she might have to push him in the right direction.

By Friday afternoon, Winry had had enough. She had sat through yet another lesson with him, stayed quiet while he wrote in the Black Notebook of Doom, which had admittedly become less doomish since she had stopped viewing everything he did as being malicious and rude, but the entire time her temper had boiled and boiled until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Here you go," he said, casually handing the notebook back to her. Winry took it, chewing on her cheek to keep herself in check. She stuffed it into her bag, and he had stood up, ready to leave. In a burst, Winry knew that it was now or never. If she didn't say _something_, she would be caught in this bizarre and confusing twilight world for the rest of the year, or maybe even longer.

"Did I do something wrong?" she demanded, making him stop and look at her. She guessed that there was a look of confused surprise on her face, but she couldn't really tell because spots appeared in her vision, like she had been sitting down for a while and then jumped to her feet. Winry took a deep breath, trying to blink through the spots. Edward was staring at her, expression guarded. He knew exactly what she was talking about, she could just tell. What she couldn't tell, however, was if that knowledge made her feel better or worse.

"What?"

"The other day, back in your dorm. Did I do something that made you mad or what?"

"Uhm, no," he said, innocence mixing in with his confusion. That made Winry's temper jump up a few notches, and she strained not to snap at him.

"Because I just don't get what would cause you to act this way if I hadn't done something—"

"Act what way?"

"_This_ way, Edward!" she said in exasperation, throwing her hands out to encompass the last few days. "I don't think you've said _one thing_ of consequence to me since the weekend, and it's kind of making me mad!"

She waited for him to respond, fuming to herself because she had sworn she wouldn't raise her voice, but she'd gone and wrecked that nicely. Edward looked at the piano keys, assembling what he was going to say next. For some reason, seeing that serious, detached look on his face made Winry's stomach sink. She knew that a person in this situation should look like they were feeling _something_, fear, worry, embarrassment, relief, joy, anger. Not this disgusting calm, not the borderline apathy that she couldn't read.

"I didn't realize that it upset you so much," he began slowly, "but I'm not quite sure _why—_"

"Don't you dare say you don't know why I'm mad in the first place," she interrupted, eyes closed as she spoke.

_This is not happening,_ she thought,_ this is not this is not this is not. I am not in a practice room having this conversation, and it is not going down this path. Not after everything, please, no._

"Okay. Then what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say the truth," she said, staring at him with a deep, almost surreal confusion because she didn't think it was that difficult to understand and couldn't figure out why thought it was obvious. "I want you to tell me why the hell you would go and _kiss_ me like that, and then, I don't know, yank yourself away and never mention it again. You don't _do _that, Edward!"

He pursed his lips, anger of his own finally starting to show. Her accusations were either totally unjustified or were slamming home in a way that he couldn't tolerate, and again she didn't know which would be worse. Ignoring something so important, whether intentional or not, was horrible.

"Well, I tried that and you didn't even let me finish. Are you asking for the version of the truth that sounds best, because I'm not gonna do that, Winry! What _more_ do I have to give you?"

"_Give_ me?" she asked, a hurt laugh coming from her, which was odd because she didn't find a shred of this funny, "Edward, you haven't _given_ me anything!"

He grit his teeth, fists clenched and for a moment, Winry wondered if he was going to hit something.

"If you can't even—fine. Fine. Why am I doing this?" he asked, cutting himself off. His voice was level as he spoke, but so, so cold. This was an anger that Winry had never seen before, and she was certain that she had never wanted to.

"Why am I pulling away? Because you take too much. Because I don't even _know_ you, and yet you've managed to take so much of my time, learn so much about me. In the span of a couple of months, you've found out about the automail, my mom, my dad, parts of my life that other people haven't even _thought_ of asking about, and I've known them for years! What we have...it's not normal."

"Yeah? And you obviously didn't get my life's story poured out at your feet when I had a freakin' _breakdown_ in the middle of the _street!_" she snarled at him, unable to believe at that moment that she had considered him a kind, warm and decent person. Not when he was saying such awful things. Maybe it was because there was a grain of truth in his words, but at the same time, that little grain hardly represented real life. Yes, it was probably easiest to define their relationship as odd, progressing and then declining in such rapid bursts, but she had at least thought there was also trust there, because they had been through so much together, had seen enough pain to want to get to know and even help each other through it all.

Edward gave her a tight, humorless smile, like the cold bastard didn't give an absolute damn about her or her feelings or what she had thought they had.

"A night's worth of conversation isn't going to do it," he said evenly, and Winry wanted to scream. She was on the verge of tears as it was, plus she was about ready to launch herself at him and pound in every bit of his skin that she could find, but she absolutely refused to give him anything else. Forget a petty desire to keep the scores even, to not give him ammunition, Winry didn't think he _deserved_ to see any more of her when she was hurt and open to the world. Not after this.

"Well, consider me _educated,_ then," she snapped, jumping to her feet and grabbing her bag. He stepped aside as she stormed past, and she slammed open the door. As she stalked into the hallway, Winry turned to look at him over his shoulder.

"You are a cold, cold person, Edward," she told him, hating the fact that her throat was closing up. "And you are _never_ going to be happy if you stab people in the back just for caring."

Winry stormed down the hallway, too afraid to look back at him, in case he didn't seem fazed in the slightest.

* * *

><p>The first thing Winry did when she got back to her dorm was scrawl out a letter to Harry. She spent about twenty minutes on it, then went to the kitchen to get a drink. When she came back and glanced over the letter, Winry realized that it was more swearing than an actual account of what had been happening in her life.<p>

She crumpled it up angrily and tossed it into the trash can.

Winry didn't know what happened to the rest of her evening, but she found herself hanging off the edge of her bed around eight, upside down and with her head nearly brushing the floor. She stayed there until Rose appeared in her doorway to bid her goodnight. The older girl clearly knew something was wrong, but didn't comment.

Eventually Winry managed to drag herself up and finished the letter to Harry, able to write both clearly and without expletives, but she felt awful inside. It was a terrible feeling, like the anger had burned out, leaving her insides as only ash and sadness.

In the end, Winry didn't comment on what had happened with Edward, except for a sentence. She began the line with the woman's name, then paused, covering her mouth with her hand as she thought about what she wanted to say. After she had written it, the line looked sad and deflated.

'_Harry...why are guys like this?'_

Winry finished the letter and crawled into bed, dreading for the next day when she would have to go out and speak to people.

The next day wasn't as bad as she thought, until she reached the gap in her schedule between classes. She was in the library, reading up on the section they were studying in History when Ling walked up to her.

"Oh, hey, Winry, glad I caught you!"

"Hm? What's up?" she asked, turning in her seat.

"I just wanted to know when you wanted to schedule your next lesson?"

"What?"

Ling frowned at her, sensing something was off.

"Your...lesson? You know, for the piano?"

Winry looked at him, feeling her insides vanish completely as she understood.

"My lesson? I thought I was learning only from Edward."

"Didn't he tell you?" Ling asked, genuinely confused. "He told me yesterday that he wouldn't be able to continue teaching you, and asked if I would be willing to take over."

"Oh," she said, struggling to not let her emotions reach her face. "Right. Okay. Well, that's good to know. I would have looked like an ass walking into an empty practice room tomorrow. So, uhm, do you have any free periods in your day?"

Winry spoke quietly with Ling, trying to think past the sound of her own disbelief and pain. Her argument with him had been bad enough, leaving her with a sick after taste almost all day, but this…_this_ was so much worse.

Edward didn't even want to be in the same room with her. If that wasn't apparent, nothing else was.

Why was that? Had he heard some awful rumor about her, to make him so absolutely determined to avoid any mention of what happened? The possibility that he simply regretted his decision to kiss her didn't make any sense to her. Was that even plausible? As far as she knew, Edward hadn't had a girlfriend prior to this, at least not in high school, as he had been too busy being grumpy and anti-social to allow someone to want to get close to him, which meant there was no sort of precedent she could use as a base line.

Ling seemed notice that there was something wrong, as after they had decided on the dates for their next few practices, he put his hand on her shoulder. He looked her in the face, searching for whatever was upsetting her, maybe, brow furrowed. His dark eyes looked worried and kind, like he didn't want anyone hurting if he could at all help.

"Hey, Winry, what ever's wrong…you know you can talk about it, right?"

"Yeah, I know," she said, too tired and heart sore to even bother denying what she was feeling. "I just…I need to understand it first, you know?"

"Yeah, I totally get it, I'm not trying to push you into telling me, but…before you explode, tell someone," he said, a halfhearted smile on his face. She smiled back, nodding a little, wishing that something so simple would help.

The rest of her day was a dull trudge, even the time she spent in the autoshop. Fixing automail and finding improvements to aid people's lives didn't have any appeal at the moment. In fact, nothing really seemed appealing to Winry, point blank.

The walk home was cold and uneventful, and rather than allow herself to be dragged down by slogging through her homework on an empty stomach, she made herself some dinner. Twenty minutes later she was eating a delicious cream based stew with a healthy amount of rice mixed in. The warm food made her feel a bit better, but did little to dissolve the stone that had been set on her heart.

What was she supposed to do about Edward? Was she expected to just walk away from it all, not aggravate the wound any more? Or did she have to be kind in order to get kindness back? That was absolutely ridiculous. She had put up with it in the beginning because her life would have been hell otherwise, but now that was completely unacceptable. She was not going to dance around to his idiotic little mind games, she wasn't some dumb puppet on a string.

But she also didn't want to walk away. Winry had just barely figured out what she was feeling, and that wasn't something she wanted, to just leave because it seemed to be inconvenient to Edward. At the very least, she wanted to go back to those wonderful days when they were happy and could laugh and joke with each other, no extra strings attached.

Unable to help herself, Winry began crying into her soup, sobbing for all she was worth.

A few moments later Rose came in, alarmed at the sound of crying.

"Winry, what's wrong?" she demanded, sounding panicky. Winry bit her lip, trying desperately hard to tame her tears so that she could speak. But just turning and looking at Rose, who looked so motherly and so worried and ready to comfort her, Winry broke down even more. Rose rushed over, wrapping her arms around Winry's shoulders.

"Hey, hey, Winry, what's wrong? What's wrong? It's alright, you'll be okay," she said in a soft, soothing voice, but it only reminded Winry of how, just a week before, Edward had been in her place, calming her down as she sobbed in the rain. Winry's tears came faster that before, and she buried her face in Rose's shoulder.

The two of them sat there for a moment, Winry slowly easing into a lesser state of sorrow.

"You think you can tell me what's up?" Rose asked, and Winry gulped down air, forcing herself to speak this time.

"E-E-Edward, he—_Rose I don't even know what's going on,_" she sobbed, and Rose pulled her back into a hug, smoothing her hair with a hand.

"It's alright, Winry," Rose said, and Winry felt like Rose knew exactly all that had happened, from Edward finding Winry in the rain, to the wonderful night spent talking, to the kiss, then to the argument in the music room. And, of course, him refusing to teach her any more. That was what hurt the most, Winry decided. She could handle everything else, but such an open statement of refusal, combined with the fact that he had left _someone else_ to tell her...Winry just couldn't manage staying together anymore.

Winry cried in Rose's arms, wishing that she was back in Resembool, and had never come to the city to find such heartache.

_**AN CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP YOU ALL LITERALLY ASKED FOR THIS (granted, you all just wanted it to be an Ed and Winry chapter, which I planned to do anyways, but whatevs) WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT ONE, HUH?**_

_Skylark/You Don't Know What Love Is - Mark Murphy  
>Lover's Eyes - Mumford and Sons<br>Desafinado - Gal Costa  
>Valse A Rosenthal - Hot Club of Detroit<br>Half of My Heart - John Mayer_


	28. What a Difference a Day Made

**_AN HEY LOOK AT THAT IT'S NOT EVEN BEEN TWO WEEKS YES AND IT'S ALSO A LONG CHAPTER. But in my haste, I didn't really review it too much, so keep that in mind if you find some stupid mistake. I promise to fix it later._**

**_oh my gosh i think i really did kill you guys though augh. I was honestly and truly taken aback by the mass amounts of Edward hate that the last chapter prompted. Wow, like really taken aback. But to quote a certain anonymous reviewer, I did indeed give you Edlose instead of Edwin like you asked, so there's that._**

**_BUT NO WORRIES THIS CHAPTER IS STRICTLY HAPPY YES._**

**_BUT WAIT IMPORTANT NOTE! I just realized that I unintentionally made Edward and Riza the same age (16). This was an error on my part, because I wanted to make Edward the right age for a sophomore in high school, but also make Riza younger than Roy, who is 17. So from now on, she is 17 is a birthday in early fall, and Roy one in late winter (January-eeeeeearly March). Just had to add that in there, you may continue._**

Riza twirled her pencil, frowning at her paper. She was in English with Roy, and they were working together on an assignment. Or rather, Riza was working while Roy sat beside her and screwed around. To be fair, he had just about finished his assignment and had only said they were working together so they could get away with talking, but at the same time, he wasn't the best thing for her focus. She guessed that she was in that strange stage where she was absolutely and ridiculously in love, to the point where it made her completely stupid, but for some weird reason, she was alright with that. Certainly Riza still rolled her eyes when he made a stupid comment or played with her hair or whatever, but underneath the scowl, she was grinning like an idiot, because she knew that he was doing all of that to make her smile.

For the most, Roy seemed to be back to normal, laughing and talking and joking like he had before Maes' accident, except for the fact that he was entirely consumed with finding out just what had happened, who had hit Maes and run. There were strings being tugged and trails followed and things falling into motion, and they both knew that it all lead to something incredibly dangerous, but at the same time, there was no way it could be left alone. Not now, not after what had happened.

That wasn't to say that Roy hadn't had some rough patches after he had practically broken down in his car after the ice cream parlor. On several occasions Roy had been close to losing it, and only Riza holding him tight was enough to keep him from breaking.

"You know, if you keep glaring at the paper, you're gonna burn a hole into it," Roy said beside her, making Riza glance at him.

A part of her stomach clenched at the sight of his boyish smile. It was simple and unconniving, the best kind of smile Roy could give. He had so many plans and ploys and ideas in play that it was refreshing to see him look like he was just a teenager again. Riza looked back at her paper, wishing he would stop making it so damn hard to pretend that they didn't have anything between them.

Her stomach seemed to tighten even more at the thought. _Pretend that they didn't have anything between them._ Was that really all they were doing? Sneaking around, trying to hide the truth from everyone, like they were ashamed of what they were doing, like it was something _wrong_? And for what, to earn the approval of the percentage of students that might not even give Roy their vote?

_His entire life is mapped out on that little vote,_ she thought sourly to herself, reminding her that she had sworn to stand by Roy, no matter what. And, in theory, that meant going along with whatever he did, whatever he needed. If that was a best friend, second in command and assistant, so be it. But when he wanted (when they both wanted) something that conflicted with everything else...what was she supposed to do?

"What's wrong?" Roy asked, noticing the frown on her face. Riza gave him a sideways glance, and said flatly "You've been talking so much, I can hardly remember what my train of thought was."

"Fine, fine, I'll be quiet then," he said, raising his hands, giving a mocking look of resignation before tossing her a smirk. Afterwards, though, she could see the quiet shadow of doubt. He knew she had been lying, knew that whatever was on her mind was something that couldn't exactly be said in the middle of class.

The wonderful thing about Roy Mustang was that he knew how to wait. He may express impatience some times, to the point of him acting like a spoiled brat, but Riza knew from experience he could wait and wait and wait until it seemed like he had completely forgotten, and then spring without the slightest bit of warning. So when he asked her yet again was wrong, this time in her house, at her table, Riza wasn't surprised. It didn't mean she was excited about it, though.

"Riza, what is it?" His voice was soft and gentle, like he was unsure of what she was going to say, but knew it was serious enough to warrant his proper attention. She shrugged, leaning against the table.

"Nothing," she said, quietly, stupidly, desperately hoping he wouldn't hear the weight in her voice. Roy rested his cheek on his fist, watching her from his chair. She looked down at Black Hayate, who was shuffling around her feet, hoping to earn a treat if he acted extra cute.

"You know, you don't have to lie when it's just us," he told her, voice flat. Riza peered at him from the corner of her eye, frowning a little.

_Maybe that's exactly when I need to lie, to keep the selfish, horrible truth from spilling out and complicating things,_ she thought darkly, then told herself to shut up because even considering that road would ruin things, fast. Riza couldn't pick and choose anymore, there was another person completely and utterly wrapped up in her life now, and cutting them out, even just a little bit, would be asking for mountains of trouble.

Roy waited for her answer, looking up at her from the table. His small, cheeky little smile said that he could wait a whole lot longer than she could, could wear her down until she told him what was weighing on her out of sheer irritation at his continual interrogation.

In answer, Riza picked up her bag and walked to her room, giving an "I need to put my stuff away" over her shoulder. As she walked down the short hall to her bedroom, she heard his chair be pushed back and Roy give a small sigh as he stood up to follow her. Black Hayate gave a small bark and bounced around his feet and probably hoping that Roy was going to get his leash or something.

She had just put away her bag and sat down on the bed to take off her shoes when he appeared in her doorway. His hand was in his pocket and he leaned against the frame, watching her. Black Hayate appeared less than a beat later, Roy's panting and easily excited shadow. For some strange reason, her dog had made an immediate connection with Roy. He rubbed up against his legs, nuzzled his hands, did everything to impress the boy. Except for when Roy was drunk, that was. Then Black Hayate stayed far away, covering his nose with his paws at the heavy smell of alcohol.

"You gonna tell me now?"

Riza looked away. A part of her wasn't even sure _why_ she was so self conscious about telling Roy about how she felt, how she hated being a secret, a guilty pleasure. Especially when he would only tell her what she already knew, that they, that he, just couldn't risk letting anyone know.

"I swear I won't tease you if it turns out you've failed your last test because you've been day dreaming about me," Roy added, making Riza roll her eyes. "At least, not much."

"You are so _arrogant,_" Riza sighed, flopping back onto her bed. Even though she was staring up at the ceiling, she could see the grin that stretched his lips in her head.

"Nope, I'm just confident." Roy sat down beside her, making her legs slide into him.

"Same thing," she grunted, placing a forearm over her eyes.

In the silence that followed, Riza could feel her pulse push through her finger tips and toes. She waited, heart in her mouth for what he would do next. Black Hayate's collar jingled as he paced in front of them, uneasy at the feeling the pair were giving off until finally retreating back to the main room.

"Is it that bad?" he murmured, gently shifting her arm from her face.

"No, it's just...I don't know. It's nothing."

Roy fell back to lie beside her, tossing his leg over one of hers. He looked at her, the honest look of determination distracting in how cute it was making him. Riza looked up at the ceiling, pressing her lips together.

"It's certainly not nothing."

"Fine, then. It's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid."

Riza looked at him out of the corner of her eye again, eyes narrowed.

"You don't even know what it is yet. You can't know if it's stupid or not."

"Call it a bit of faith, then."

Riza made a grunt of irritation, looking back at the ceiling. She took a breath, knowing that she would have to tell him sooner or later. Either she could keep running and have him resolutely chasing after her, trying to coax the truth out of her in the sweetest way possible and wasting all of their time, or she could skip all of that and tell it to him straight.

Problem was that scared the absolute hell out of her. It was one thing to have Roy call her up in the middle of the night, drunk off his ass and slurring out apologies that Riza didn't even _want_ to understand, or to have him crying into her neck because he felt absolutely useless. It was fine for him to throw his soul into the air and let her catch it, slowly stitch it back together. What was not fine, however, was for her to do the same. To show what she was feeling and worried about and wanted, openly and plainly and not just have him guess...that was totally different. She wouldn't be Riza Hawkeye if she went around, forcing her problems and hopes and dreams to people. No, she was calm and collected, keeping what was hers to herself. If someone wanted it, they would have to ask for it.

_But he **is **asking, _Riza reminded herself. _He's asking, and you're not letting him in. Is that what you really want, him chasing you for the simple truth?_

She bit her lip, about to act on a bit of faith of her own.

"Is it really that bad?" Roy asked, gently moving her hand from her face. Riza looked at him, biting her lips.

"No," she finally managed, more an answer to her own question than to his. "I just...I dunno. I don't-" She cut herself off, looking away. Roy sighed as well, lying down beside her.

"You know," he began, putting a leg over one of hers, "I'm not fluent in sentence fragments. If you want me to understand, you'll have to speak properly."

Riza took a breath, then spoke to the ceiling.

"I was just thinking...what are we doing?"

"Doing with...what?" he asked, unsure. Riza looked at him, brows furrowed.

"What are we doing...here? I mean, together?"

"Uhm...is this a trick question?" Roy had the edges of panic in his voice, and looked uncomfortable, to say the least. Riza couldn't help but give a smile at the thought of him probably assuming that this was the introduction to her breaking up with him, after everything they had seen and done.

"No, I...hold on, I'm not really sure how to word this," Riza said, thinking. "It's just...don't you feel _bothered_ by the way we're doing things? We sneak around, pretend like nothing's happening at school or around people we know, but the moment we're alone, here at my house, on a walk somewhere, in a hallway at a dance," she said, an embarrassed laugh escaping her as she remembered the Halloween dance and how they had snuck away together.

"When we're alone, we're this," she said, waving a hand at their legs, how he had so casually tossed his on top of hers. Roy looked at her, a worried frown on his face.

"What are you saying, Riza?"

"I'm saying...I don't like acting like we're having some sort of weird affair. I don't want to pretend that what's happening _isn't_ happening, because it is and I like it and there's nothing wrong with it so we shouldn't have to act like it is," she said, the words spilling out, falling over each other in an effort to reach him. Riza felt a blush creep over her cheeks at how it had all come out, wishing she could speak more eloquently like Roy. He was the person that won over the crowds, she just helped behind the scenes so that he could stand before them in the first place.

"You know why we can't walk around like a normal couple," Roy said after a pause. It could never be called a reprimand, but it still stung because Riza had gone over that exact fact about a dozen times on the walk to her house alone. Yes, she knew, and yes, it was for the best, but no, she most certainly did not like it.

"I know, but hell, Roy, it's been over a month, and aside from running out to the ice cream parlor, we haven't even been on a _date._ I know this isn't what it is, but it kind of feels like I'm—"

"Don't say it," Roy abruptly, voice losing its softness. The thought alone made his voice sound like stone, ragged and cold. Riza looked at him, and how he was scrunching up his eyes as if to create a barrier between himself and the idea of Riza just being some lustful fling.

"Don't _ever_ think that you're...because you're _not_." Riza turned to look at him head on, touched by how violently he disliked the thought.

"I don't, I just think we're kind of acting like it. Can't we...I dunno, do _something_?"

Roy opened his eyes and examined her face, eyes wandering down to her mouth.

"We can do whatever you want, Riza," he said, gaze flicking back up to her eyes. They simply lay there a moment, watching each other, taking everything in.

Riza knew it was stupid and definitely not the thing to do when they were lying on her bed, but she wanted to kiss Roy, just once. Just to see what it would be like, to kiss him because she could, with no one watching, with no repercussions.

_Don't be an idiot,_ she thought,_ of course there would be repercussions. Big ones, messy ones. Keep the good thing good and don't do something you'll regret later._

She bit her lips, clasping her hands together to keep from running them through Roy's dark hair.

Suddenly, Roy sat up, jarring her from her thoughts. Riza blinked in surprise, propping herself up on her elbow. He had his elbows on his knees, and his head was in his hands. It took her a moment, but then it hit her, and she was swept with a strange combination of appreciation and joy.

Just then, as he looked at her, Roy had probably been nearly overwhelmed with the desire to start kissing her, just as she had been for him. Only, whereas she had wanted to kiss him once and be done, he had probably been wanting do to more along the lines of kiss her and then rip her clothes off. So he had removed himself from the situation. All because she had asked.

The realization made Riza want to fling her arms around his neck and hold him tight to express her gratitude that he would do that, just for her, but she knew that if she tempted him even more, Roy's power of will might crack. He was still addict, despite his efforts at reform.

Instead, Riza sat up beside him. She held his hand in hers, smiling. Roy glanced at her, then cleared his throat.

"So, uhm, where do—where d'you want to go?"

"For a date? Why don't we start out simple, with dinner or something?"

"Okay, I can do that. We'll go across town where people are less likely to see us, and we'll be good. Do you care what we eat?"

"No, just nothing too fancy. I feel smothered in places like those."

"But those are the only places with a wine menu," Roy pouted, cracking a smile under Riza's death glare. "That was a joke, Lieutenant."

Riza gave a humph and walked out of the room, making a face at him over her shoulder. On the inside, though, there were butterflies swirling around her stomach.

* * *

><p>Riza checked herself over one more time in the mirror, totally unsure if she had over or under dressed. She had asked that they not go to a particularly formal restaurant, but that was just about the only one she was sure how to dress for. Now, Roy could be taking her to anything from a place that served steaks and lobsters while a live jazz band played, or to a hole in the wall burger joint that had been owned by a single family for three generations. Either way, she knew that it would be incredibly fun and the food would be great, but this was their first date and she wanted to get everything right.<p>

She sighed at her lipstick and light eye shadow, and her hair had been pulled off to the side into a loose knot. Her earrings were simple diamond studs, and her dress, though a gorgeous dark pink, couldn't be classified as formal. Not with the full pleated skirt and it cutting off around her knees. But still...

Riza looked imploringly down at her dog, wishing he could pass comment on how she looked. Of course, Black Hayate couldn't care if she was smeared in mud and wearing a card board box, so long as she still scratched behind his ears.

Giving a soft chuckle, Riza squatted down in her heels, rubbing his back.

"You gonna be okay without me?" she asked, trying to quell the nerves tightening in her stomach. As if in answer, Black Hayate barked and rolled over, paws playfully in the air.

Riza gave him one more rub and straightened, checking her black handbag one more time. A knock on the door made her jump and yank on her coat, hurrying to the door. With a quick farewell to Black Hayate, Riza opened the door, revealing Roy.

The first thing she noticed was that he had dressed up as well, thank the stars. Roy usually made an effort to look nice, wearing handsome scarves, collared shirts, and vests whenever possible, but today he had traded in the usual street shoes and nice jeans for slacks and dress shoes. The only flaw in his well pulled together ensemble was the huge boyish grin, shattering any idea of him being serious and businesslike.

"You look great, Riza," he said, and she could tell he meant every word of it. She couldn't but help smile, ducking her head and trying to hide it behind her hand.

"Thanks, Roy. You look really nice, too."

"Shall we?" he asked, turning and offering her an arm. Riza closed her door, locked it and then slipped her arm around his. The butterflies fluttered intensely in her stomach for a moment, and then suddenly froze as she settled into place.

"Nervous?" he whispered in her ear as they walked down the path to his car.

"_Incredibly,"_ she sighed, allowing him to open the car door for her.

"That makes two of us, then."

The car drive wasn't too long, nor too uncomfortable. They made small talk and did a lot of grinning stupidly, both knowing that if they tried to apologize for how awkward they were being, not only would they fumble over themselves, but also the other would instantly deny the fact to make them feel better. By the time they climbing out of the car to a restaurant Riza had never heard of before, they had both worked past the awkward stages enough to be able to look at each other to keep from breaking into embarrassed giggles.

_Well, at least it's not a hole in the wall,_ she thought to herself as they walked in and were scooped up by a waiter after Roy confirmed his reservation.

As they walked, Riza noted that this was the perfect middle of the road type of place she had been hoping for. It big and spacious, composed of a large spiral that formed two levels. On the inside of the spiral, a rail with a series of tables pressed up against it curved all the way up. Placed in the center of the bottom level was a small group performing on a raised circular platform. The singer was a tall woman with a glossy purple dress and sang robustly in Aerugian, using her hands to tell the story just as much as her voice. The song was upbeat and required a lot of upright bass and violin, and had many of the customers tapping their toes under their tables.

Riza looked at Roy, unable to hide her grin, which he mirrored as if to say '_I knew you'd love it'_. The waiter situated theM at a table on the second level that sat next to the railing so they looked directly onto the performers. Once they were alone, Riza stared at Roy, hardly able to speak.

"How did you even _find_ this place?" she demanded, a laugh making it hard for her to speak.

"Madame Christmas made it a hobby of finding unusual restaurants. We ended up going to a different place every Friday, and this was one of theM. We came here last year. Do you like it?"

"Do I like it? Roy, it's...perfect." The word escaped her as no more than a breath of air as she gazed up at the large chandelier positioned above the platform on the bottom level. Individually, each feature or decoration should have said that this was an incredibly formal establishment, but somehow everything was far too relaxed for that. Maybe it was the upbeat and slightly careless music, or perhaps the fact that nearby, one of the waiters was talking animatedly with a customer about a popular rock band. Whatever it was, Riza absolutely adored it. She should never have doubted Roy. No matter what he picked, he would have made sure to make her comfortable.

Riza wasn't quite sure where the time went after that. Song after song rolled by as she picked her food and talked with Roy, feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time. She sipped on a hazelnut Italian soda as he made faces at her over his cherry limeade, and she couldn't help but think that this was what they were _supposed _to do. Go to exciting restaurants and feel ridiculously giddy and not worry about keeping up appearances so they could enact plans that would decide the course of their life, or worry about whether or not their best friend had been purposefully hit in a cross walk.

They laughed and talked over Balsamic vinegar chicken and grilled mushroom pork, and Riza wished that they could stay there for forever. Eventually, though, even the tiny slices of cheesecake were finished and Roy paid for dinner (despite being incredibly cheap, he knew how to step up and be a gentleman when showing a girl a good time). He helped her on with her coat, and when they walked to the door, he slipped his hand into hers. At first she was surprised, but Riza held him tight, not even bothered by how wonderful it felt.

The ride home was quiet and comfortable, both of them allowing the gentle sounds of the radio fill the air between them. Riza was sad to see the streets change into something familiar, even more so when they turned on her street. The feeling of wanting to stay in that moment of time for forever she had had back in the restaurant came back to her, and she closed her eyes, trying to absorb as much of that feeling of blissful contentment as she could. Who knew when she would feel it again.

Finally, the car stopped and Roy got out. He opened the door for her, giving a playful bow as she stepped out. Like before, he walked her up to the door, both of them standing there once they reached her doormat. They were holding hands again, and a part of Riza said that this was a little silly, standing like they were in some chick flick, both hands clasped between them. Silly, but not bad.

"Roy, I had a great time tonight," she said, and he grinned.

"I'm really happy you did, Riza. I mean, I had a great time, but then, I always do around you."

"Okay, way to ruin the moment with your cheesy compliments," she said, lightly smacking his chest. He laughed, but then said "Cheesy, but true. Nothing contrived this time, Riza."

Riza kissed him like she had been wanting to all night, and she was certain it was the best kiss they had ever exchanged. There was nothing hurried or secret about, standing there for all to see. Granted, they both probably wouldn't have done it in the middle of the day, but still, it was something.

It was Riza that pulled away first, aware of the dog and remnants of homework awaiting her inside (and also of the fact that Roy, despite recent improvements, would take everything he could get). Roy, ever willing to push for just a little bit more, kissed her on the lips again, then delivered one on her nose before finishing. His grin was still boyish and incredibly delicious, though smudged with red.

"Oh, no, you've got my lipstick all over you," she said, raising a hand to smudge it off. Roy laughed, wiping it off as well.

"Thanks. I can't tell you how much hell Havoc would give me if I walked in looking like that." Riza gave a grin, just thinking of it.

She wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but Havoc had found out about the two of them. While she was glad it wasn't a _total_ secret, and she could rely on someone else to help her with the sensitive situation should need be, Riza was still a bit embarrassed to have Havoc know. Despite him being a loyal, decent person, he still had the irritating habit of teasing people much more than they would like. If she had had her pick of all the people in their little band to know, she would have instantly said Fuery. He was far too sweet to do so much as cast a knowing glance at them.

She nodded, then unlocked her door. Riza slowly backed in, not wanting to take her eyes off of Roy as she ignored the excited barks of Black Hayate around her feet.

"Well, I should, I should get going," he said after a short pause. "Thank you for coming out with me, Riza."

"No problem, I had fun," she smiled, holding onto the door. "Good night."

"Good night," he repeated, and she could hear the longing in his voice, the longing to stay, to keep watching her, even if it meant them standing on the door mat and doing nothing else for the next fifteen minutes. Riza closed the door, leaning so she could keep watching him as the gap narrowed until it didn't exist.

She leaned against the door, unable to stop the grin that had been plastered on her face since she stepped inside. Riza slid down to the floor, picking Black Hayate up and settling him in her lap, despite the dog hair that would cover her dress.

There was a soft thump against the upper part of the door, and Riza just knew Roy was mirroring her, though standing up. She held her breath, knowing that if she said anything, he would be able to hear it through the thin wood.

And then, muffled but just loud enough to send her heart soaring, she heard the words.

"Riza Hawkeye, I think I love you."

**_AN I realized that this is the first Royai chapter in a long time. I feel a bit ashamed, but at least we made some Edwin progress (can we really call it that, though?) in the meantime._**

**_GOSH THIS LAST SCENE SO SWEET BLUH. I've been waiting to write that for forever, but I didn't know which POV to use! It would have been better if it was Roy's POV for the last bit, but the rest of the chapter just screamed for Riza's lense, so that's what I stuck with._**

_Dolores - Seth Ford Young  
>Dance Me to the End of Love - Patricia O'Callaghan<br>Drive By - Train  
>A Little Bit Closer - Tony DeSare<br>Spend a Little Time - Delta Maid  
>All This and Heaven Too - Florence + The Machine<em>


	29. Twice

_**AN ugh don't look at me YES I KNOW THIS CHAPTER IS LATE.**_

_**BUT OH MY GOSH I'M SO STUPID. The last chapter is one of those ones I have been waaaaaaaiting for forever, planned around the song What a Difference a Day Made by Jamie Cullum, AND YET I SOMEHOW MANAGED TO FORGET TO BOTH ADD THAT INTO THE PLAYLIST AND GIVE THE LAST CHAPTER THAT TITLE BLUH I'M SO BAD AT THIS LATELY. Now it is fixed, and I suggest everyone go listen to it, like right now.**_

_**Again, I did a rush job on the editing, but I'm pretty sure that this time, I didn't repeat a great big chunk of the story on accident ;)**_

The music swirled around Edward as he played, coming thick and fast, initially gossamer strings that wound together and together and together until they were practically tangible, ready for anyone to pluck from the air. He hated them.

Everything was off, his hands wouldn't play right, the notes ended up a jumbled, ugly mess, and when he finished a song, there was no sense of satisfaction, no finality. Just...emptiness, because what little he had had while playing was over, the purpose was gone.

It had been like that for days, now. He felt empty, listless, and nothing could really fill the void.

A small section of him whispered that it was because of what he had said to Winry, how he had so coldly treated her. He didn't necessarily _regret_ what he did, not really, but the way he'd done it...that was entirely a different matter. She was so clearly angry and hurt, just as much as he was, though she was much worse at hiding it. The way she had looked at him when he'd said that she had taken so much from him, shocked and disgusted, like he had slapped someone unexpectedly in front of her, like he was some sort of being that she had thought she'd understood, but was now realizing she clearly did not.

That was something he hated, too.

Every once and a while, their fight would spring back at him, random phrases and expressions and emotions cropping up until he wanted to break something, anything, everything, just to get it out, just to stop _feeling_ everything exploding inside of him.

_I want you to say the truth_, she'd said, so angry and confused because to her, at least, it seemed obvious. Even as he'd heard it, Edward knew that he would never be able to do that. The truth? To her, of all people? No, no, that would never happen. That sort of shallow anxiety and fear would never be opened up, no matter who the person was.

Edward really had no idea how she would react if she heard the truth, but he knew it would be horrible and he would never be able to stand it.

_You are a cold, cold person._

He grit his teeth and set his fingers back on the piano, launching himself into the fastest, angriest song possible, just to forget, just to smother whatever it was he was feeling.

Being _cold_ wasn't his problem. Just thinking of Winry's accusation made him feel sick with anger. If he was cold, he wouldn't have any problems in the first place. If Edward had just learned how to _distance _himself, figure out how to not care about anyone or anything that wasn't absolutely and undeniably important to whatever goals he had, then Edward wouldn't be in the current situation. He had tried so hard the year before, just knowing what would happen, but that damn Mustang had gone and wheedled his way in, all big smiles and bullshit about just wanting to make sure Edward was adjusting properly. And when Edward finally called him on it, Mustang hadn't even had to balls to try and lie about. Instead, the strangest thing had happened.

Mustang, for some unfathomable reason, had looked him in the eye, head tilted slightly as he considered the other boy. Then the big, conniving smile that had been hiding so well under wide eyed hospitality appeared, and he said that yes, he had come to get into the good graces of Von Hohenheim's son. And even when Edward had flat out told him that Hohenheim was little more than the person who filled out the paperwork and took legal claim on Edward, Roy didn't seem to be fazed. All he said was okay, and asked if there was anything else Edward thought he needed to know.

And just like that, the kid had managed to stick around. He sat with Edward at lunch, teased him in class, and helped him out when Edward was getting his ass kicked by the friendly neighborhood gang. Edward knew that he was headed down a road that would seem great until he suddenly crashed and was left broken and bleeding on the side of the highway, but Mustang had begun a downward spiral he couldn't stop.

Until Winry did. Violently.

Edward slammed his fingers down on the keys, the music ugly and uneven and frenetic, chaos wrapped in a few sound waves. He didn't want to think about Winry, how he had sprinted head on into the situation, knowing, knowing, _knowing_ that he was trading his peace of mind and happiness for a few pleasant hours, or days, of even months. He'd known it, and yet he was still entrenched in absolute pity. Why was that? Why was he allowing himself to feel angry and hurt because some girl had shouted that he would never be happy if he tried to salvage the remaining chances of joy he had left?

No, a part of him countered, the irritating, resolute part that was hardwired into his moral compass, not because some girl had cried a little and looked so woefully hurt because he had said he wanted to abort a relationship that could really only get worse. He was allowing himself to feel hurt and upset because he was a damn fool that didn't know how to clean up his own messes.

"Whoa there, Liszt. Keep that up, and we'll have to get you a specialty piano."

Edward glanced around at the voice, vaguely surprised to see Al leaning in the doorway. His brother walked down the aisle, hands in his pockets. Edward gave a tired smile, shrugging as his fingers kept playing.

Liszt, when he played the piano, had tended to play with such force that pianos would actually be damaged if he played on them for too long, requiring specialized pianos to be made for his use. He and Al had been searching the city for piano stores a couple years before, and had come across one such piano, earning a long, if interesting, spiel about it and its original owner.

It had been a nice afternoon, spent running around the city to look at music stores just to admire the instruments and sheet music. Edward wished he could have a few more of those, with no strings or worries attached.

"Don't you have a lesson right now?" Al asked, and Edward shook his head, hearing his own tension in the notes flowing from his fingers. He would have to explain things to Al, and then hear his reproaches on dropping Winry when things had become far too difficult for Edward's liking.

"No," Edward said, eyes on his fingers, as they pressed note after note. Chopin's _Nocturne, Opus 9 Number 2,_ light and delicate, slow and serene, the embodiment of gentleness. It was one of the songs he would be required to play for the Winter Concert, and but it still wasn't quite right. There was something missing, some vital part of the song that made it so wonderful, that made it a nocturne just wasn't there when Edward played it.

"What, did Winry have to change her schedule or something?" he asked, and Edward clenched his jaw.

Al knew. Al knew exactly what had happened, or at least, knew what Edward had done, and was upset by it, upset enough to go confront him about it. Edward hated it when Al did this, stepping around the truth, hinting at it further and further, until one of them just couldn't take it anymore and snapped out what the other was waiting for them to say. Al wasn't the type to charge in, slinging accusations even when they were backed by the truth. He nudged people towards admitting what they had done and then went on to get them to explain their reasoning or soothe what had happened from there.

As nice as that was to see it in action on someone else, Edward much preferred Al to keep himself _out _of his business, because that gentle, feel good bull was enough to make him choke.

"No," Edward said, jaw tight as he spoke. He hated speaking while playing the piano, it rattled his concentration. And that was without it being on such a difficult topic.

Al stood there a moment, the unspoken words between them stacking higher and higher, until Edward could hardly even see his brother out of the corner of his eye.

"You should talk to her about it," he finally said, then turned away, walking back down the aisle to the door. Edward kept playing, but watched Al walk, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, expression probably saying he was disappointed in his older brother. He wasn't going to fight with Edward, not today, not when he was so obviously ready for it. No, Alphonse would probably pick a time when Edward wasn't expecting it, when all of his walls were down and Al could spear him through the heart with the truth.

It wasn't until he closed the door that Edward stopped playing, turning his hands to look at his palms.

Covered in gloves, hiding the truth from as many people as possible, they shook as he stared at them. That little realization was shocking to Edward. His very apparel, along with his outwardly hostile attitude, helped him lie to people, cover up whatever it was that he was uncertain or scared about.

It made him feel absolutely sick.

* * *

><p>Classes dragged on, and Edward kept his head down. The classes he had with Winry he arrived at just before the bell rang, and then left just after it finished. He didn't have the energy or will to look at her and see the hard, painful expression, whether it was anger or sorrow or distant apathy. Edward didn't really have the energy to do much anymore. All he really wanted to do was lie down, listen to music and sleep.<p>

Life, and more specifically his friends, did not seem to have that it mind, though.

Edward was on his way to his dorm when Ling caught up with him. At first, Edward hadn't heard him, with his ear buds in and watching his feet step over the remnants of the previous day's puddles. Ling was practically shouting when he finally heard him.

"Hey, _Edward!_ Wait up!"

He turned around, waiting for Ling to catch up, Ran Fan trailing behind.

"Oh, hey," he said when they had gotten closer. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Winry," Ling said bluntly, looking Edward full on in the face. Edward locked his jaw, suddenly cursing ever having gone to the boy for help.

"What about her," he gritted out.

"I don't mind teaching her and all, she's a great student, but the fact that you shoved her off onto me for some reason you refused to tell me is where I have some problems."

"I didn't shove her off onto you," Edward grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. He had gotten enough crap from Al, and they hadn't even really talked about it. He certainly didn't need this from Ling, too.

"Yeah, you did. You didn't even tell her, Edward."

Ling's voice was flat when he spoke, like he was handing Edward the ugly truth. It would have been better if he just shouted.

"I don't want to talk about it. It's a nonissue."

"Ran Fan," Ling said, glancing over his shoulder at the girl, "could you please give us a moment?"

Edward didn't even have the time to scoff mentally at the fact that Ling was sending Ran Fan away, ever falling into the stereotypes of the pampered prince before Ran Fan had nodded and stepped back, saying "I'll be in my dorm. I have homework to finish. Call if you need me."

"There," Ling said once she was out of ear shot, "nice and alone. Now, spill your guts."

"How encouraging," Edward grumbled, not looking at Ling. They walked in silence a moment, and Edward just knew that Ling wasn't going to leave until he started talking.

_Damn I hate that kid_.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, voice fifteen layers of defensive and short tempered.

"I want you to tell me what happened. You guys were bros one sec, and the next...you can't even stand being in the same class as her? That's a bit off," he said, voice as light as ever. Edward clenched his teeth, keeping himself from snarling that Ling didn't have any damn idea as to what was off or not, because he had been stuffed away in some palace his entire life, being waited on hand and foot while trying to catch the attention of his cold, self-indulgent father. As much as he wanted to say it, Edward knew that that was crossing the line, that no one should ever say that to a person, no matter how they were feeling.

"Nothing happened," he managed, but Ling just looked at him.

"Fine, we had a fight. It was stupid, and we both said some pretty awful things, but we're both stubborn idiots and we won't take it back no matter what and no one can change that so don't bother."

"I'm not here to try and convince you to go knock on her door and beg for forgiveness, though that'd be a great idea. I just want to know what kind of minefield you tossed me into."

"What?"

Ling shrugged, looking ahead at Edward's dorm.

"If I'm gonna do my job as a teacher, I've gotta know what I can and cannot say around her, or else she'll burst into tears. Winry's going to be asked how I did at the semester, and there's no way I'm going to be rewarded for making her cry every other day."

"You self involved bastard," Edward laughed, shocked once again by how blunt Ling could be. Underneath his big smiles and happy go lucky attitude, the boy was just as much of a conniver as everyone else at St. Bradley's, and wasn't afraid to jump to brass tacks when the nice, happy approach wasn't working. It was odd though, because Edward could never really tell if he was being serious or not.

Ling just laughed and shook his head, looking at Edward.

"Seriously, though, you should sort out what happened. You really hurt that girl, Edward, and she's one of the few genuinely good people at this school. Don't ruin that and make her bitter and cold because you were too proud and scared to say 'Hell, I was wrong!' and try to make up with her."

Edward stopped walking, fixing Ling with a hard look.

"Don't act like you can just swoop in and tell me how to steer my life. You've done plenty of cruel things without making up for them."

"Yeah, Ed, I have. But I've learned how much that messes up your life from them, whereas you haven't," Ling told him, shrugging again and continuing on down the path beyond Edward's dorm. "Just give it some thought before you shoot it down, though. Only a bit of advice."

Edward glared at Ling's back, wishing he could just run over and kick him in the back of the knee, because _dammit_ he hated how Ling could play any angle to his advantage.

_**AN Hopefully this chapter helped explain hint at some of what Edward was thinking. I know it's kind of vague, but there will be a clear, proper reveal later, so the rest of your questions should be answered relatively shortly.**_

_**bleck bleck bleck have a good day**_

_What a Difference a Day Made - Jamie Cullum  
>Flight of the Bumblebee - The 5 Browns<br>Twice - Little Dragon  
>Bridges Burning - Wild Child<br>Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls_


	30. Sforzando

**_AN SCREAMING THIS CHAPTER. IN SHORT I AM JUST FREAKING OUT._**

**_Again, apologies because I only did a quick edit (UGH WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS, but I neeeeeded to get this out to you so you could read it. I just hit my stride with this chapter, because the emotions came and the words stacked on by the thousands AND I REGRET NOTHING. I REPEAT, I REGRET NOTHING OF WHAT IT WRITTEN._**

**_Real quick, thank you for the reviews, I loved reading your comments and I promise I will soon expound on Ed. Also, thanks to the people who were totally okay with me procrastinating and not writing anything because they are just so chill. Seriously, that's awesome. I didn't really take you up on it, because nothing would ever be written that way, but I appreciate it._**

**_AND ALSO I AM SCREAMING INSIDE BECAUSE THIS IS THE LONGEST STORY I HAVE EVER WRITTEN EVER AND IT IS ALREADY THIRTY CHAPTERS AND I HAVE LOVED JUST ABOUT EVERY SECOND OF IT. It's been fabulous and wonderful and inspiring, and I really just want to do my absolute best when it comes to story telling for you guys. You encourage me to make something better, to think out all of the piddly little details and delve into content that I probably wouldn't be so eager nor comfortable with otherwise. It's so exhilarating to be so involved with a story, and I only have you guys to thank for it, because you encouraged me and inspired me and dedicated so much time and energy into just reading. I really, really love you all for that._**

**_And a quick warning for the audiences more sensitive to language: It becomes unexpectedly salty in one moment of the chapter, so I apologize for that, but I just could not think of another way to portray the situation other than slapping the F-word into it. It only happens once in the chapter, and most likely will not happen again within the story._**

Winry pulled the door open to the music building, glad to be out of the weather. It had begun to sleet sporadically over the last few days, ice roaring against the roofs and windows of her classes just when teachers began their lectures. She didn't really mind it, though it would certainly be easier if it just snowed and had done with it. She had heard on the radio that it would begin to warm up a little over the next couple of days, though, doing away with the ice entirely, which she supposed was always a little comfort.

She passed classrooms, some empty, some containing people, doing things from practicing string quartets to learning proper technique for Xingese drumming. Winry always liked walking through the building during class, because she got to sneak a glimpse of people in their element, learning and living music. They seemed totally at ease with everything, doing ridiculous vocal warm-ups or messing up on a particularly difficult passage so that the whole piece sounded like a train wreck for a moment. They didn't care if people saw their flaws, because they were working to get better.

She turned down a hall, intending to head straight through to the choir room to ask her instructor a few questions about the quarter final, but stopped when she heard the dregs of a song. Winry paused, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from, and finally pinpointing it to one of the small music halls with the door cracked open.

Even though she had learned her lesson in not walking in on someone while they were playing after her catastrophic first meeting of Edward, Winry couldn't resist taking a peek at whoever it was that was playing. She loved watching people when they were so wrapped up in the music, because they stopped worrying about how they looked or what the results of their math test was or who cared about what they did. It was just them and the beautiful sounds they made.

Winry crept closer, the song growing steadily louder. The piece featured a cello, though it was accompanied by a piano. She couldn't help but smile as she heard the steady thrum of the strings against the bow, long and measured and then suddenly breaking up to become rapid turns and broken chords. The piano was soft and perfectly complimentary, always moving, but never enough to detract from the cello.

She peered through the cracked door, and received a jolt at seeing both Edward and Alphonse, intently playing up on the small stage. There was barely enough room for Alphonse to sit just in front of the baby grand, and she supposed that if the song were any louder, he would have been deafened by his brother's playing. As much as it hurt to see Edward, Winry couldn't even try to deny how breathtakingly..._beautiful_ the scene was. Edward had his eyes on the keys, while Alphonse was playing with his eyes shut. Both were perfectly in tandem with the music, Alphonse's shoulders swaying slightly as he delicately pulled on his bow, while Edward nodded his head, a small smile on his face.

For a moment, Winry was absolutely absorbed in the song and watching the two boys perform. She pulled away from the crack, leaning against the wall beside the door, smiling to herself as they continued playing. Winry closed her eyes, letting the notes wash over her.

The song didn't sound especially difficult, slow and giving the sense of ease, like it was promising to always wait and be there, the low, lovely notes echoing in the hall and filling Winry's chest. Distantly, she realized that this was the first time she had ever seen Alphonse play, though she was hardly surprised that he was just as skilled as his brother.

And then, in the span of a moment, Winry could feel the quality of the song change, right in the soles of her feet. In three notes, the music became what Winry guessed to be unintentionally sad, the cello becoming even slower, as if not wanting to go on, even uncertain, while the piano kept going at its quiet determined pace. Then suddenly the whole thing splintered apart, the cello sharply breaking off, the bow carelessly dragged across the strings creating and high, discordant sound as the piano carried on for a beat, and then stopped, the chord unresolved, leaving Winry tense. She reluctantly opened her eyes, listening to one of them huff out an embarrassed sigh.

"Well?"

That was Edward, his voice flat just like it always was after she had messed up in one of their lessons, critical and not the least bit sugar coated. Even now, hearing him speak put a lump in her throat.

"I, uhm, sorry," Alphonse said, sounding a little embarrassed. "I just...ugh, I'm never really sure with that bit. Even when I was writing it, it seemed a bit off-"

"That doesn't mean you don't have to learn it," Edward said flatly. "Don't think of it as _your song,_ just think of it as _a song._ You didn't have trouble coming up with the notes, you don't have questions about what might be better suited to that section in your head, it's just sounds you have to make and getting your hands to make them. It's a trouble spot in any other song."

"I know, I tell myself that, but it all just gets cluttered up when I think about it while playing."

There was a short pause, and Winry felt guilty for staying there and eavesdropping on their conversation (plus it hadn't turned out so well for her the _last_ time she'd listened in on them, and she didn't want to repeat that experience), but without the song to cover her footsteps, she doubted she could leave without detection. She held her breath, praying they'd go back to playing, but they kept talking.

"You don't have to write your own song for the performance, do you?" Alphonse asked, and Winry could just see Edward shaking his head.

"Mm-mm, I don't. Since advanced students already do that at least once every quarter, we just have to memorize a crap ton of songs, and perform live in a restaurant or something."

"Mm. I wonder how Winry's doing on her song. Ling's working with her on it, isn't he?"

"I think he is," Edward said, voice suddenly tight. Winry felt as though a rock had been dropped into her stomach, worried about what might be said next. How was Edward going to speak about her now, after everything? Would he mock her as he had before, or would he refuse to speak about her at all?

There was another pause, and it was terrible to listen to. Winry almost pushed herself up from the wall, not wanting to have to go through this, not wanting to hurt herself anymore than she already had, but some sick force kept her there, until Alphonse finally said "Why did you stop teaching her?"

Even though she had asked this question herself, once aloud to Edward and then a thousand times in her mind, Winry wanted to know what Edward would say. Would he lie and save face, or would he flatly say that Winry was too selfish for his tastes, or what? But no, he wouldn't lie, not Edward. She couldn't actually recall a time he had ever lied, about anything. Concealed things, yes, but he had been very open about it, plainly saying that it wasn't his place to say, or that he just couldn't share that information at the moment.

That was one thing Winry had loved, and still loved about him. No matter what, Edward made sure to always tell the truth, or at least the truth as he understood it.

When Edward answered, his voice was sharp and unhappy.

"We just weren't compatible together. I don't know how we even managed to work together as long as we did."

"But you guys were friends for a while there," Alphonse said, and Winry could just see the frown on his face, his dark yellow-green eyes narrowed with concern. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah. We came to our senses, and then moved on before something terrible happened. I didn't want to wait until she was trying to strangle me with the piano strings for us to split apart." Edward said the last bit with a laugh in his voice, but it sounded ugly and empty in Winry's ears.

"I don't think that would have happened," Alphonse said thoughtfully, and Edward snapped "Well, it almost did. We had a fight, shouted at each other for a bit, and then did the smart thing and took some distance before more trouble came."

"What did you fight about?"

"Does it matter? We fought, that's it. I fight with everyone over everything."

"Yeah, but if it was serious enough to make you stop teaching her, I kinda want to know what happened, ya know? I mean, that's pretty intense, Ed."

"Whatever. Can we just get back to practicing, please? I've got a class in twenty minutes, and I'm only doing this for you as a favor. I could be doing homework or something else right now." Edward's words were mild enough by themselves, but his tone was so, so sharp. It made Winry wince out in the hall, and feel slightly sick at not walking away, regardless of being caught.

"You don't _have_ homework, you always do it the night you get it or in the morning of the day after. And stop changing the subject."

"Why? I mean, it's my damn business in the first place! If I don't wanna talk about it, I shouldn't have to."

"Yeah, but Ed, you're missing my point. If it was a serious fight you two had, don't you think you should at least go apologize or something? I mean, it's not like Winry _wants _to be–"

"Would you just drop it?!" Edward snapped out, voice loud and almost vicious. "I said I don't freakin' wanna talk about it, so stop! Whatever happened with me and Winry happened with _me and Winry._ We don't need you butting in, so just stay _out of it, _Al!"

There was a deafening silence for a moment, and Winry felt empty and vaguely disgusted at the sound of them arguing. Then there was the rough clatter of a piano bench being pushed back, and papers grabbed up.

"I've got a class I need to go to," Edward gritted out, and then fast footsteps coming towards the door. Winry barely had a chance to take a few hurried steps away from the door before it slammed open, smacking the wall where she had been standing moments earlier. She held in a gasp of terror and surprise as Edward stormed out, turning away from her as he stormed down the hall, completely oblivious that the subject of his conversation was a mere two feet away. She stared at him, hands over her mouth as he continued walking down the hall, bag and music folder in hand. She was so shocked by Edward's abrupt departure that she barely even heard the hurried footsteps following him, sounding just before Al stuck his head out of the music hall. He saw Edward just in time to see him turn the corner, then sighed, sagging a little.

Alphonse straightened and then turned her way, jumping in alarm and horror when he saw that Winry was standing barely an arm's length away. Winry simply stared back, hands clasped over her mouth, hardly able to process all that had just happened.

"_Winry,_" Alphonse gasped, and she slowly lowered her hands, and managed "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to listen in, I was passing and you guys were-"

"How much did you hear?" he asked, interrupting her before she began rambling. She gave a sad, sheepish grin, and then said "Too much."

"Why don't you come in," he sighed, pulling back into the music room. "I guess we need to talk after that...travesty."

Winry nodded, even though he couldn't see, and slowly followed him in. She felt like she needed to keep apologizing for having stolen the privacy of the two boys, even though he didn't seem mad. More than anything, Alphonse seemed embarrassed at having started such an unflattering conversation.

"Winry," he said after a moment, catching her by surprise, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were-"

"No, it's fine, I don't...I don't blame you for your brother," she said, giving a tired smile. Alphonse paused by his cello, which had been hastily set aside, presumably after Edward had begun to storm out. He picked it up and looked like he was about to put it away, but Winry raised her hands, as if afraid things might become even more unbearably awkward without its distraction in the room.

"No, wait, uhm...gosh, I know I'm in no position to be asking you for anything, Al, but could you...could you play for me?" She suddenly felt shy in asking, but he just seemed surprised, then flattered.

"Uhm, sure, yeah, why not? I kind of have to, as a sort of apology for what Edward said."

There was an uncomfortable pause as Alphonse sat down, adjusted himself, glancing over his music.

"Anything in particular something you want to hear?"

"Anything, at this point," she sighed, smiling at him. Alphonse nodded and smiled, setting his bow against the strings.

The song he played was energetic enough, a dancing song, she thought, like a polka, but underneath it all...an inherent sadness bled through. The sorrow of things worsening with his brother colored everything about the song, making it tragic and beautiful. Maybe it was just the fact that Winry was coming out of her shock, or because she was just so damn emotional these last few days, but hearing it made Winry want to cry.

Alphonse finished the song a few beats later, the last note slow and mournful, and he looked up at her, embarrassed.

"Sorry it's not better, I just, uh, I'm not on my best game at the moment."

"No, I understand, I totally get it. But I thought it was good, it was a beautiful sort of melancholy," Winry said, shaking her head. There was silence for a beat, Alphonse giving a shy, embarrassed smile, and Winry yet again wondered how a loud, rude asshole like Edward could have such a sweet, sensitive brother.

"Your guys' song sounded really great, by the way," Winry said, and Alphonse gave a rueful laugh.

"Ugh, no, it's awful. I just can't get that one part down, and everything else sounds so off..."

"No, it's fine, really. I loved it, and can hardly believe that you _wrote _that. It was very...steady, reassuring. I think it's something everyone needs to hear."

"Thanks," Alphonse said, giving another shy grin. "I've been working on it with my cello instructor, she's been such a blessing, really glad I have her. And then Ed's been accompanying me, which has been great, when we're not fighting," he laughed, shaking his head ruefully.

"How is that, by the way?"

"It's fine. He just picks up on it, right away. One look at the music, and he's good. That's one thing I wish I could do, just look at a piece of music, get the main chords down and then just...accompany, no proper sheet music, no instruction, just something I can pull from my head. Edward's always had this skill at making things, taking what's already there and then turning it into something better. He says it's easy, an equal exchange because all the building blocks are right there, but I don't know any other second year that can just do that, advanced or not."

"He's certainly got talent," Winry agreed, eyes on Alphonse's cello case. Alphonse sighed, packing away his instrument and saying "I wish it was easier to be his brother sometimes. He goes around causing trouble for himself, and never even bothers to fix it, he just deals. It's like he's caving in a tunnel on himself, but instead of put up supports, he just holds all of the dirt on his shoulders."

"I think that's just because he's stubborn and doesn't want to take anyone's help," Winry said, a wry smile on her lips. Alphonse laughed, shaking his head.

"You have no idea. You know, he won't even let me buy him a birthday present? His birthday is in, like, four days, and he refuses to tell me what he wants? I've got to guess, and I know that he'll like it regardless because I got it for him, but I want these kinds of things to really mean something, you know?"

"Wait, what day is his birthday?" Winry asked, shocked at hearing this. He hadn't said anything to her, even before their fight. Even though she was still incredibly mad and hurt over what he'd done, she found herself suddenly thinking of what she might get him.

"The twentieth. Doesn't help that Dad's out of town on a business trip, or else I'd ask him for ideas. Not that it'd really help, I mean, Ed avoids him as best as he can."

"Yeah," Winry said, frowning again, "I picked up on that."

Winry walked through the bottom level of the main building, headed back to her history class from a quick trip to the bathroom. She was just passing the office when someone called out "Hi there!"

She looked around, confused at first, then caught sight of a boy sitting in the waiting area of the office. He looked to be about twelve, and wore a big smile.

"Uhm, hi," Winry said, unsure.

"You headed back to class?"

"Yeah. Back to history."

"Oh, that's one of my favorite classes!" he said, hopping out of his chair and walking toward Winry. "That and Reading, they're so interesting."

"Uhm, I guess. But I think I'm kind of required to like music best out of all of my classes if I go here," she laughed, and he grinned even wider.

"I'm Selim Bradley" he said, sticking a hand out, "what's your name?"

"I'm Winry Rockbell," she said, hesitating a moment before taking his hand and giving it a quick pump. "Are you Headmaster Bradley's son?"

"Mm-hm! He's my papa. I'm actually waiting for him to get out of a meeting so we can go to lunch together. You know, he told me about you."

"He...did?"

"Yeah. He said that you came in late this year because you were taking care of your sick grandma, the famous mechanic Pinako Rockbell."

"Well, that's not a lie," Winry said, not quite sure what to make of this incredibly precocious elementary schooler. He had absolutely no problems in just talking to her, energetically showing her everything he knew. A part of her found it cute, but then another part saw it as incredibly daunting.

_It's not surprising that he can command a person's attention, even now. I mean, King Bradley **is** his dad..._

"I hope he didn't say anything bad," Winry said, and Selim laughed, shaking his head.

"Nope! Just that you were a part of this new teaching program they were starting, where the advanced students taught some of their classmates. Who's your teacher?"

"Edward Elric," Winry said, a lump forming in her throat. "Or at least, he was. Do you know who he is?"

"Oh, yeah, I know Edward! I see him sometimes when I come in to see Dad."

"Yeah, well, he was my teacher up until a week or so ago, and then we had to change because of...schedule conflicts."

"Oh. That's too bad, because he's a prodigy! Everyone talks about him, and how he's really lucky, being so skilled _and_ coming from such a great family."

"Yup, he's hit the jackpot alright," she said, struggling to keep the black humor from her voice.

"Do you like him?" the boy asked, and Winry looked down at him sharply, wondering if their rocky relationship was apparent on her face.

"What?"

"I mean, as a teacher. Do you like him, is he good? Are you friends?"

"Well..." Winry began, thinking, "I don't always _like_ him, but he's a good guy. He's just...got a lot on his plate, and so it's tough sometimes, but that's when you've really gotta stand by people, y'know?"

Selim was about to respond when Margaret, the sour secretary that had 'helped' Winry on the first day, leaned over her desk to catch his eye.

"Your father's done," she stage whispered, hand on the receiver of her desk phone. Selim beamed and nodded, turning back to Winry and giving a quick "Sorry to leave so soon! It was nice meeting you, Winry!" before bouncing off into his father's office. Winry gave a small farewell in response, then returned to her history class, wondering what was up with that energetic little kid.

Despite the fact that he had trampled on her heart and thrown away any idea she'd had of them having some sort of something, Winry found herself in the kitchen, making Edward a pie. It was the day before his birthday, and she had vaguely formed ideas of dropping it off outside his door when she was in class, and then running like mad. She wasn't sure though, because did he really deserve it? Did he honestly deserve the time and energy and care it took to first come up with the idea of the pie, and then make and deliver it?

After Al had told her when Edward's birthday was, Winry couldn't but help think about it, and whether or not she was obligated to get him something. And, to make things worse, she found herself facing the same problem that Alphonse had, in deciding what the devil to give him. She had no idea what he really liked outside of music and fighting, and she had no idea what he would have needed for either, and she felt like it would have been a bit of a slap to get him something for his automail. So she had settled on the idea of giving him food, because every teenage boy liked that. Winry thought that Edward wouldn't especially like the sweetness of a cake, and after seeing the fruit stand in the store, stacked high with crisp apples, Winry had instantly decided what to give him.

Of course, that had hardly spared her the pain of considering and reconsidering and reconsidering again and again whether or not he should actually get it.

In the end, however, Winry found herself in the dorm's small kitchen, peeling apples and trying to remember if he had anything that would take him away from his dorm on Saturdays. She _could_ just run the risk of doing a ding-dong-ditch, but the chance of him catching her was absolutely unbearable. Winry felt a bit of embarrassment flame up in her cheeks at the mere thought of it.

Or maybe she could drop it off today, and let him enjoy it still warm? But no, she wanted it to be on the day of, as a sort of pick me up on a day that was almost certainly going to go poorly for him.

Winry left the peeled apples in a bowl, starting her pie dough.

The worst thing about it all, Winry decided, was that even though she was outrageously upset at all of his antics, she still cared. Even after such horrible treatment, she still wanted to make Edward feel a little bit better, to do this one kind thing for him because he would never know, would never associate this one pie with the baggage he had with her.

_Does that make me weak_? she suddenly found herself thinking, then recoiled at the thought. No, no, it most _certainly_ did not make her weak. Just stupid, she supposed, because Winry had walked into this one eyes wide open. No matter how nice and wonderful and perfect everything had seemed, she knew just how petty and harsh Edward could be when he wanted.

She had just prayed that he never would.

Soon enough, Winry was slicing the apples and placing them in the dough laced pie pan, sprinkling them over with butter, cinnamon, and sugar. She laid another layer of dough on top of the apples, delicately crimped the edges, then picked up a knife to cut air vents into the top.

Winry hesitated, wondering if her sudden urge was too much. Again, the thought of _does he deserve it?_ jumped into her head, before she angrily shoved it away, sinking the knife through the top layer of dough.

After a quick wash of diluted egg whites to make the top crust glossy and picturesque, Winry stepped back to survey her work.

It was beautiful. She personally had not seen a better pie in a very long time, maybe even forever. The only ones that she could even consider coming anywhere near as pretty had come straight out of the oven in her house in Resembool, back when her mother and father had still been alive, back when she had still had a family.

But this pie was a little bit different from those pies, because they had been made with a thoughtless amount of love, from her mother to the rest of her family. There were no strings or worries attached there. The pie, however, had been made with a heartbreaking amount of love, from her to Edward, and each twinge of pain, each tiny regret, and lack thereof could so plainly be seen in everything, right down to the delicate letters spelling '_Happy Birthday'_ composed of air vents in the top crust.

Winry blinked and told herself to shut up, because that thought alone would make her cry and she didn't want to wreck everything by getting tears on it and making parts of it salty. She placed it into the oven, set the timer, washed her hands, and then headed into her room to grab a notebook from her bag. While she was in there, Winry slid open the window to air out her room, making use of the crisp, rain-free breeze that was sweeping across the campus. She paused a moment, watching the thick, gentle gray clouds blocking out the blue of the sky, then returned to the kitchen.

She sat down at the table and pulled out her mp3, flipping through the music and settling on Chopin's _Prelude in E Minor_. She opened up her notebook, flipping through it until she came to a page half filled with lyrics.

Coming up with her own song had become more difficult than Winry had thought, mostly in the lyric department. Ling had been no little miracle in helping her out with the actual music, blocking out chords with her for the piano accompaniment and then guiding her in making the tune she had come up with the best it could be. When she had asked how he was so good at the whole thing, he had just shrugged and smiled, saying that he had actually been taking a song writing course all year.

"The music just speaks to me. The words, however, do not," he'd said with a rueful little smile, running a hand through his bangs and tucking them behind his ear. Winry had found this particular fact interesting, and wondered if the lyric part was so difficult for him because his native language was Xingese, and the comprehension of the musicality of the language was so different from the one he was being asked to write for.

But so far, she had been making some progress. As long as Winry went with her first gut instinct and didn't start second guessing herself on the words, everything was fine.

Eventually, Winry was jarred from her work when the timer went off, and she got up to get the pie from the oven. The kitchen had slowly been filled with the scent of cooking apples, but now that it was right there in her face, Winry again found herself reconsidering giving it to Edward, though now it was more out of greed than pettiness.

Winry turned off the oven and carried the pie to her room, not trusting her roommates to leave it alone. They were nice enough girls, but any and all sweets had to be watched closely around them.

She set the pie on a cooling stand on her desk, thankful that the girls weren't there to harass her about giving them a slice. She busied herself a moment with trying to find something to deliver the pie in, when there was a dull rap coming from the front of her building.

Winry paused in her search, ears pricked for the sound again. A moment later it was repeated, and she walked through the door separating her wing of dorm rooms from the foyer.

A man was standing one of the front doors, dressed in some sort of technician's uniform. He stood waiting patiently for her to come open it, eyes on the ground.

"Uhm, hello?" she asked while opening the door, watching him pull out a notebook from his back pocket.

"Yeah, I gotta do some maintenance on the lights in here? They told me it was in the A wing of the bottom floor?" He had a light accent from the western parts of the country, dragging out his vowels and clipping his consonants in a rhythmic pattern.

Winry frowned, the A wing was her wing. None of the lights in there had been malfunctioning, at least, not in her room, the bathroom or kitchen. And if the lights had been troublesome in one of the other girl's rooms, they surely would have told her about it. Winry suddenly found herself wishing that she wasn't alone in the building just then, as everyone else had gone into the city to enjoy their weekend. Only she, as usual, opted to stay home and do homework and catch up on laundry. If she had just gone with them, she wouldn't have had to have been placed in this incredibly awkward situation of turning this man away, or telling him he was wrong. Or if she had convinced one of them to stay, maybe they would have helped make the matter a little easier...

"Uhm, I don't think there's a problem with the lights. I live in the A wing, and everything's fine."

"You sure everything's fine?" the man asked, and Winry noticed that his accent seemed to drop away as he looked up at her face for the first time. Winry had her response halfway out before the man's features registered, and she nearly choked on a horrified gasp.

She had only seen his face once, but that cruelty had been burned into her memory, without a doubt.

It was Envy, a feral sneer gracing his face. He had hidden his dark green hair in the cap he was wearing, but the horribly dark, heartless eyes could never be disguised.

Winry staggered back, trying to think why he was there, trying to figure out what would be so important as to make him sneak onto the school campus to go find her.

Of course. He went and found _her._ An undefined understanding crashed into her as she tried to think what to do, tried to make her legs or arms _move_ so she could deal with whatever it was he had planned next.

"You see," Envy began, stepping into the dorm building, "I think everything is going very, _very _wrong here."

Winry bolted, the ability to move crashing back into her so hard that she was certain that the impact was what made her take the first few steps backwards. She ran to the door of her wing, yanking it open and slamming it in Envy's face. He seemed to slam a fist into the door, making the whole thing shake and causing her to jump, but what was worse was his voice coming through the door. It was muffled but absolutely terrible as he snarled at her.

"You think that's gonna keep me out, little girl? Just _wait._"

Winry shoved herself from the door, running into her dorm, briefly thinking how blessedly lucky it was that she had the window open so she could climb out and _run_. It was big enough to fit her, she should be fine as long as she got the hell out of there before Envy either picked the lock on the door or simply kicked it down.

She slammed her dorm door shut, skipped past the desk and the still cooling pie, and yanked the window open as wide as it would go. Her heart was screaming in her chest and the fear of what Envy would do once he caught up to her made her ignore the fact that she was only wearing flimsy house sandals and she had no coat and it was _freezing_ outside.

Winry got halfway through the window, unsure if she was scrambling or falling through it, and barely even registering the fact that she had scraped her upper back and banged both shins before looking up and having her heart screech into her mouth.

A sense of utter and complete _hopelessness_ shuddered through her as she saw Greed, casually strolling closer to her, also wearing a technician's uniform. He was too close, there was no way she could get out of the window and run past him, and she had absolutely no chance in winning in a fight against him.

Amidst the horror and the panic and the fear and aching body and adrenaline that was making her hands shake and clench the window sill under fingers that had turned white, a wild, useless thought jumped into her head.

_See, Harry? This fucking why I carried a fucking wrench around with me in Resembool!_

"Hey, girlie," Greed called, like this was normal, like people climbed out of their damn windows everyday as though Hell itself was snapping at their heels. His hands were in his pockets and he seemed completely relaxed, but that completely unsettled her. With Envy, at least, he openly displayed an understanding of his nasty intent. With Greed, however, Winry was sure he could do something atrocious without that same easy smile slipping once.

Winry immediately reversed her direction, jumping back into her room faster than she had thought humanly possible.

They had come for her, they had come for _her,_ Winry Rockbell, and had her trapped and there was almost no way she could get out of this situation. She thought about screaming, but who would hear it? No one else was in the dorm with her, and unless someone just happened to be passing extraordinarily close to the building, they would never hear it, even if she screamed loud enough for her vocal chords to rip.

She could see Greed closing in on her window, and she briefly considered running out of her room into someone else's, yanking the window open and escaping that way, but the farthest dorm from hers was placed right by the door Envy was currently dealing with. She could try the kitchen, that connected to the other side of the dorms, and then she could race though and zip back out through the front and run her ass off to the front building, but even as she took the first steps out of her room, the wing door was thrust open. Envy stepped around it, leering at her.

"Sorry I took so long," he said, and Winry stepped back into her room, hands searching for her at least _one _of her wrenches, they were freaking everywhere when she _didn't_ need them, but now they had vanished-

Greed's lower half suddenly appeared through the window, and Winry knew she had absolutely no time left to prepare. She had only been able to find small wrenches on her nightstand, so she slipped them into her sock, sensing that they wouldn't do much unless she was very, very close to them.

Weighing her options, Winry made an instant decision and bolted for her door, charging into Envy.

While she knew from having watched them attack Edward that they were entirely capable of killing her where she stood, and it was just sheer dumb luck that had saved her skin last time. But, she also noticed that Greed had the speed and complete brute strength of well muscled grown man, while Envy was weaker due to his age. If she rushed him and slammed her elbows into his stomach and kicked his knees and clawed at his face and tried to rip his hair out like she was doing now, the chances of him overwhelming her flat out were much smaller.

Envy staggered back at her onslaught, swearing and trying to get her off. He grabbed her arm, but Winry jerked it away and dragged her nails down his face and neck, making him shout.

Just as she thought that maybe,_ maybe_ she would be able to get away, a pair of arms scooped her up from behind, wrapped around her waist and chest. Winry shrieked and clawed and kicked, trying to break Greed's grip at all costs while Envy wiped at the scratches she had made along his face.

"Damn bitch," he grunted, glancing at the blood smearing the back of his hand. Greed, meanwhile, was _laughing._

"Oh, she's _feisty._ I like that. You and me, kid, are gonna become _great_ friends," he said, tipping his mouth towards her ear for the last part. That didn't stop him from slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle her shrieks, however, and Winry quickly retaliated with sinking her teeth into his hand. Greed shouted and tightened his grip, laughing even more. Winry struggled to keep breathing, his grip like a bear trap that had sunk its claws into her ribcage. Each breath burned as his arms refused to give way.

"Hell, if we weren't kidnapping you, I'd _love_ to ask you out to lunch. But work comes first, right?"

"Listen," Envy snarled, coming closer, "if you make _one more noise,_ you're going to regret it."

Winry debated screaming for all she was worth then, but Envy's eyes were so cold, so _soulless_, that she knew it would be far, far better to merely comply. Envy disappeared for a moment, and then came back from what she guessed was the bathroom, a hand towel in hand. Winry struggled at the sight of it, not liking what it implied, but Greed held her in place. Envy gagged her with it, the fabric cutting into her skin as he fastened a knot and put it in her mouth.

"Eh, don't worry about this, kid," Greed said to her, as if in comfort. "We're just kidnapping you, s'all. Nothing too bad's gonna happen, we just can't have you screaming when we place you in the bag."

"Nothing too bad's gonna happen from _you,_" Envy amended, pulling a couple of zip ties from his pocket.

"Hold your hands out," he ordered, and Winry shook her head. Envy snarled and grabbed her wrists, holding them together in one hand. Winry tried to jerk her hands away, but he clamped them between his side and his arm, fastening the tie around her wrists. Envy then reached for her ankles, and Winry kicked him in the jaw, terrified of the thought of being unable to run. She could work with not having hands, but being unable to even_move away..._that was too much.

His head jerked back from the blow, and Greed gave a soft chuckle in her ear, tightening his grip even further and making Winry whimper. Envy finally caught hold of her ankle, and in punishment, shoved it up against her so that her knee and thigh slammed against her chin, neck and chest. Winry gasped, pain burning through her leg and struggling to regain the air that had been knocked out of her through the gag.

Greed handed her over to Envy, and slung a bag off of his back. At the sight of the duffel bag, Winry tried struggling and hitting and even screaming, but nothing worked. Finally Envy grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked on it, lowering her ear to his mouth.

"Look, you little bitch," he hissed in her ear, voice low and terrible, slow and measured as he delivered his threat. "We're under orders _not_ to hurt you. But if you keep on being difficult, I may just break them, alright? You think this is bad right now? Piss me off, and I will _really_ make you go through hell."

Tears sprang into her eyes, and even though she hated herself for it, she found herself nodding.

"Good," he spat, and then shoved her into the bag.

"Hey, easy there," she heard Greed say, and she wondered what on earth his deal was. He seemed to not want to hurt her, but he had absolutely no problem in aiding in her kidnap. He gave her a lazy, lopsided grin as he zipped up the bag, encasing her in a murky dark. Winry struggled not to start hyperventilating, because it was difficult enough to breathe in the bag, which smelled vaguely of dust. She heard them muttering, and it was few moments before she was suddenly hoisted into the air, jerking her into a disgusting sense of seasickness.

Winry clenched her teeth into the rag, debating whether or not she should scream. She was being _kidnapped_ by two gangsters, abducted right from her dorm room. Clearly they had planned this all out meticulously, so that no one would be around when it happened. Greed had climbed through her _window_, for crying out loud, and yet no one had noticed. There was no one there to help her.

_But I can't give up,_ she told herself, _I can't just let this happen. If I hear someone's voice, I will scream and struggle and do everything I can to get them to look inside the bag._

Unfortunately, it was mostly silent as Greed carried her out, the vague sounds of cars and the city floating over the school's walls. Winry closed her eyes, trying to guess where they were taking her. They were heading to one of the side walls, she could tell by the noises growing louder, and then the clang of a gate. The sound of feet on pavement, a car door opening and then-

Winry gasped as she was suddenly tossed into the air, and landed heavily on the floor of a car. Her head banged against the floor, and stars burst before her eyes, even though Winry could only see utter darkness.

She let out a shuddery sigh through the towel, hating the fact that a tear managed to drag its way down her cheek. Winry closed her eyes, wondering what on earth she was supposed to do next.

**_AN AUGH YOU UNDERSTAND WHY I WANTED THIS CHAPTER OUT SO BAD AND YET YOU DOOOOOON'T._**

**_*pirouettes over the corpses of all your hopes*_**

_Lonely Hands – Angus & Julia Stone  
>Elegie in E flat Minor – Sergei Rachmaninoff<br>I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter - Madeleine Peyroux  
>Gravity - Sara Bareilles<br>Down My Avenue - Melody Gardot  
>Brand New Key - Melanie<br>Cups - Lulu and the Lampshades_


	31. Whisper

_AN It's been two months. And I hate myself. YOU WILL NEVER KNOW HOW DISGUSTED I AM THAT I LET THINGS SIT FOR SO LONG. SUMMER IS WHEN I'M SUPPOSED TO UPDATE FREQUENTLY ASDFJKL; I'M SORRRRRRRY. BUT HEY, LONG CHAPTER._

_And thank you, every single one of you who reviewed this story, especially just for the last chapter! Every time I think you guys can't do much more, you go and top your output of insightful comments, they just dazzle me. Although, I'm a little worried that you guys commented more on the pie than on Winry's well being. You should reconsider that one a little bit, haha._

_And I know you guys want to know what's up with Winry, buuuuuuut that's not going to happen for one more chapter :T I just need to lay down the proper foundation here, and then we will be able to head on through to the fun stuff._

_And I guess I changed the format of my ANs?_

* * *

><p>Edward closed the door to his dorm building, reviewing what was left for him to do that day. He needed to pop in and speak to his piano teacher about the Winter Concert and just how much he was supposed to perform. She had mentioned that the advanced students had to play in both restaurants and the concert halls, but he wasn't sure which songs went where.<p>

Then after that, he needed to drop by the music store to check on the shipment for Al's electric cello, and then, of course, he had to go to Hohenheim Manor. Normally he wouldn't be going anywhere _near_ the place, as any risk of running into his father was too off putting to even chance, but he had received an offhand voice mail a few days before saying that Hohenheim would be out of the city on business, and would be back at some much later, undetermined date.

_Fine with me,_ Edward thought darkly as he reflected on the message, which had been quiet and awkward, like the man still didn't quite know how to talk to people outside of business parameters. _It's not like I care where you are, anyways._

Granted, this wasn't _strictly_ true, as his absence allowed Edward to pick up some things he'd left at the house over an especially long weekend, and hadn't been able to go back for previously. But then, Edward wasn't about to argue over stupid details involving his father with himself.

He walked across the grounds to the music building, shivering in his coat. The weather was grating on Edward's nerves, never quite one thing or the other. One day it would be sleet, the other thin sunlight, the next pouring rain. It was especially ridiculous because it was already December, and Central should have been covered in snow by now. Edward just prayed it would start snowing soon, just to cut some of this awful tension.

As Edward neared the door to the building, it swung open. A girl stepped out and leaned against it, looking back into the dark hallway as if listening to someone speak. She nodded then looked ahead of her, apparently her conversation done.

"Riza," Edward called, making her turn. She broke into a smile at the sight of him, waving.

"Edward, hi, I haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, well, I guess we both have had things on our mind."

They were both silent for a beat, but it wasn't one of the tense or awkward silences Edward had become so accustomed to over the last few weeks. He guessed that was entirely due to Riza, as he was just a bundle of nerves, angst and harsh words. She was such a naturally calm presence, a giant tree where as everyone else was a bunch of leaves, tossed around by the wind. Edward liked being around her, because even when the world seemed to be crashing down, she could take a breath, pull herself above the chaos and see what to do next. He doubted if there was anyone else in the world that was better for Roy than her.

"Have you been working on your pieces for the Winter Concert?" she asked, and he nodded. "Advanced students have to perform in like a restaurant, right? You don't have to go do a group performance in the concert halls, do you?"

"Not really. We've got the performances at a business, but then we've got to do one piece of our composition in the hall like everyone else."

"Wow, Roy didn't tell me that. He just said that you have to memorize, what, ten pieces?"

"Something like that. It's not too bad, it's like doing Guild, only in public."

Riza nodded, adjusting her knee length coat. Edward looked around, trying to find something to say because he enjoyed being there with her, a respite from the hell he had dug himself into. Riza didn't know about Winry (well, she probably did know about _some_ recent drama between her and Edward, but she was kind enough to not badger him about it), and for a second, he could forget there were any problems, forget the way Winry had looked when he had slammed daggers into her heart.

_Not to mention Al, and the Ling. Wow, I'm just on a roll with people lately._

"So, who're you waiting for," Edward and Riza shrugged, smiling.

"Who am I ever waiting for? Roy's talking to a teacher about the final details for the advanced student's winter performances, pulling together this, that, and the other."

"You're nicer than I am. I would have left him to go someplace warmer."

"Yeah, well, Roy needs a little bit of nice in his life right now," she said, and even though her face hardly moved, the sudden impression of sadness struck Edward. Roy had _appeared_ to be fine in the days after Hughes' accident, but Edward knew almost better than anyone that Roy was the kind of person to stuff that all away, fake a smile for the sake of keeping others removed and happy. But something about Riza's expression said that it was a little bit more the mourning, something darker.

Had he fallen back into the grips of alcohol?

"He's...been _obsessed_ with the idea that somebody...intentionally hit Maes," Riza said, voice dropping slightly. "There are just some things about everything that bothers him, and he's not going to give this up."

"Has he turned up with anything?" Edward asked, a stone dropping into his stomach at the could have wanted Hughes taken out of the picture like that? He was just about the kindest, most amiable being on the whole damn _planet,_ what sort of lunatic would want him gone via collision with a _motorcycle?_

"Nothing solid, but Edward...I think he's right. He's been digging around, and some of the things-"

"Oh ho, I'm right, am I?" came a voice behind Riza, making Edward jump and Riza turn around. Roy materialized out of the dark hallway, buttoned up in his navy overcoat. He had his usual infuriating smirk, but Edward could see the strain and exhaustion and the simple unhappiness underneath it.

"So, what is it I'm right about?"

"Nothing," Edward grunting, rolling his eyes. Riza glanced at him, relieved, and they seemed to both agree that Roy didn't need to be let in on the subject of their conversation. "And she didn't say you were right, she just said that she _thought_ you were right. You could both be wrong."

"Mm-hm, leaving _you_ to be the one that's correct, I'm guessing?"

"Maybe," Edward said, and now Roy rolled his eyes. Edward suppressed a smirk, glad to see that Roy could still banter the way he had before Hughes. For a while there, he just shook Edward off, sad and in no mood for teasing.

"Well, I've gotta go see Mrs. Krupin about some of the songs I'm playing for the Winter Concert, and I've gotta go catch her before she leaves for the weekend."

"Yeah, alright," Roy said, stepping aside so Edward could walk in.

"It was nice talking to you, Riza. Bye, guys," Edward called over his shoulder. They called farewells back, and then the door clicked shut.

* * *

><p>Edward stood on the front step of the Hohenheim Manor, shifting back and forth as he tried to get the key into the lock. Standing in the shadow of that place was always worse than actually being in it, because the place seemed to be glaring down at him, demanding why it was he had pointedly avoided the place for weeks.<p>

The door finally opened and Edward stepped inside, breathing a sigh of relief. He shrugged off his coat and hung it on the rack, then headed in. Hohenheim had given Edward a key for the manor when he had gone off to St. Bradley's, probably in the hopes of encouraging him to come by on the weekends. Edward almost laughed at the thought, because the only thing the key provided was a subtle means of entry, without the fuss of the butler coming and opening the door, trumpeting his arrival for all to hear. No, this way he could slip in whenever he wanted, quietly say hello to whomever he passed, beg them to not tell his father, and then go on his way.

Hohenheim certainly knew that this was what Edward used the key for, but he never commented on it. He so rarely spoke to Edward that he probably sensed it was wisest to prioritize these things.

It had been dark for a while now, the shorter days combining with the growing hour. Even as the beginnings of a drizzle came down, Edward found himself preferring to be outside the manor, where things were dark and cold and stereotypically miserable, rather there where things were supposed to safe, comfortable and warm.

Lights burned all throughout the house, but it felt like a spotlight as Edward made his way through the fine halls and living rooms and parlors to get to the kitchen. It was comfortable down there, with the light yellow walls and rich cabinets stained a dark red. Edward knew that the kitchen had been remodeled specifically for his mother, who had loved to cook. When she had lived with Hohenheim, she would spend her evenings in the spacious kitchen, cutting vegetables, cooking sauces, making dishes that Edward knew from experience were steeped in love.

To his surprise, Alphonse was sitting at the table, eating dinner. He looked up at the sound of Edward's boots on the tile steps, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Oh, Ed. Hey. Surprise to see you here."

"Yeah, well, I needed to grab some of my stuff from my room to put in my dorm, and Hohenheim's not here, so..." He trailed off, shrugging. Edward didn't look at Alphonse as he spoke, twirling his key ring around his finger. He couldn't help but glance up at Alphonse while he waited for his younger brother's response, relieved to see him nod and continue on.

"Okay. There's some food on the counter there that I warmed up not too long ago. Should still be warm, if you want any."

From the way Alphonse said 'if you want any', Edward had the distinct feeling that Alphonse was asking him to eat. He probably knew that Edward's lunch had been little more than a muffin and a drink, the only things Edward could grab from a street vendor that could be easily eaten on the go and didn't require a wait. Edward considered refusing, but Alphonse would only continue to harass him about eating, plus his stomach felt a little too hollow to be comfortable.

"Thanks," Edward said, smiling and walking over to the counter. He pulled a plate down from the cabinet and loaded it up, grabbed a fork from the drawer, then walked back to the table. Edward dropped down into a chair, looking down at his brother.

"So, what're you sitting down here for?"

"Dad said he'd try call around seven, and the phone's down here," Alphonse said, and Edward nodded. There were phones all over the manor, but the ones that rang initially were either in the servant's quarters or in the kitchen, and then could be sent through to any phone necessary. Alphonse could just as easily have taken the phone itself up to his room or a parlor to wait, occupying himself with a book or something, but the kitchen had a personal, comforting feel the rest of the house didn't. In Edward's opinion, that was because it had been tailor made for their mother, and not some man that was supposed to be their father, but was more like the person that paid the bills and dealt with all of the paper work.

"It's...almost seven-thirty, Al," Edward pointed out, checking the grandmother clock that hung on the wall. Alphonse shrugged, turning his hands ever so slightly up as if to say '_oh well'._ Edward scoffed, shaking his head as he stabbed a piece of chicken on his plate. "He's half an hour late, Al. It's probably not gonna happen. You can give it up. Why're you just sitting there, anyways?"

"Oh, I was just thinking," Alphonse sighed, staring off into the distance. "A lot to worry about now, you know? And I just...I'm trying to think of some way to fix it, but most things aren't things I have control over. It's frustrating, say the least."

Edward nodded, wanting to continue this vein of the conversation, but the more he thought about it, his little brother sitting there in the kitchen, all by himself, waiting for a call that would probably never come, it all made Edward seething mad. He had, by some miracle, managed to jump the ship that was a father-son relationship with Hohenheim, but Alphonse was still tied fast, lashing himself to something just as doomed as the Titanic. How long would he set himself up for disappointment by Hohenheim?

"Nothing to do with school, I'm guessing," Edward said, and Alphonse shook his head, still wearing that distant expression.

"No, I should be ready for the Winter Concert, but things like Hughes, Roy, Maria...it's all a mess, you know? People don't talk about it, not openly at least, but the school just barely dodged a scandal. Hughes is getting better, which is great, but still, everyone has to wonder why this would happen."

"Yeah…not much we can do about that, though."

Alphonse nodded, then seemed to click back in.

"Oh, in case you aren't here when Dad calls, your birthday present's here."

"Here?" Edward asked, a little confused. Generally for Edward's birthday, Hohenheim ended up mailing it to Edward's school, where it would be delivered to him, as he understood Edward was more likely to take it that way. It also served to preserve the sort of peace between them, because it was impossible to be hurt by words snarled at a mail package.

"Yeah. He wanted to make it some special surprise, but I think you'd prefer it outright."

"O…kay? What is it?"

"It's a car. He thought that since your license was to be coming in the mail tomorrow, you might as well get it now. You know, to get all psyched out for it."

"A car?" Edward blinked a second, trying to think of a situation where it didn't sound austere. A part of him _was_ excited, the prospect of being able to have a car to use to get around town, rather than walk everywhere, somewhere he could use as a sort of safe haven, a _car. _Of course he clamped down on it before the emotion reached his face, not wanting to give Hohenheim the satisfaction when Al related the whole thing to him.

"Yep. It's all ready for you to drive when you've got your license, the registration is good and everything. You'll find it in the side garage, if you wanna go check."

"Where are the keys?"

"On the key rack. He spent a lot of time trying to figure out what would be perfect for you. He even made sure to get rid of the new car smell."

Edward raised his eyebrows, unable to deny that he was a little bit impressed. The new car smell was something he _hated._ The fact that Hohenheim had gone out of his way to get rid of it…well, it was appreciated.

"So you can either wait until he calls you tomorrow, or wait until he calls today if you want to sleep here."

The surprised joy coursing through his chest seemed to dissolve at Alphonse's words, and he took another bite of his food. _Wait until he calls today._ The idealistic hope his brother still had hurt Edward, and he couldn't keep himself from speak.

"Alphonse, he's not going to call." He spoke to his plate, not wanting to see his brother's expression.

"What do you mean? He's just a little late, who knows what came up-"

"But something always comes up, doesn't it?" he asked, a dark laugh in his voice. "Something _always_ keeps him from keeping his promises, doesn't it? He can't call because there were problems only he could fix, can't come to dinner because he already made plans with another CEO, couldn't bear to leave the business in the hands of someone else to actually help Mom raise a family because they might ruin the integrity of the whole thing. Doesn't that seem a little convenient to you?"

Edward was looking at Alphonse now, practically glaring at him as he spat out the words. Alphonse looked so confused, so helpless and uncertain as his elder brother snarled out things that he'd always kept to himself.

"Ed...you know it's not like that. Dad _wants_ to spend time with us. He went out of his way to tell me that he would call, and I said that I'd just be at home, because it would be easier that way. Are you suggesting that he has this elaborate passive-aggressive plot to keep us away?"

"Maybe."

"Now you've _got_ to know how crazy that sounds. He said that he would still call you tomorrow on your birthday, and that your present would still arrive on time."

"As much good as it will do," he scoffed, looking back down at his plate as he pushed the food around, suddenly not in the mood for eating.

"Edward, have you _ever thought _that maybe he seems so distant because you never give him a chance to get closer?" Alphonse demanded, and Edward looked up, scowling. He opened his mouth to protest, but Alphonse steamrollered on.

"No, let me finish. From the moment Mom died, you've refused to let him take care of you. At least when she was alive, you were willing to let him be in the same _room_ as you without throwing a fit. And you spent _years _refusing to have anything to do with him, until finally Dad took the hint and stopped trying to make you be around him. Don't you get that?"

"Because he's spending _so_ much time with you."

"Yeah, actually. Compared to you, I'm spending all day with him. I sometimes go see him after school, I come home on most weekends, I call him, I _see Dad._ And that's a choice _I_ make."

Edward stared at Alphonse, utterly surprised by this revelation. It was the first time he had ever heard of this, and for some reason, it felt like a betrayal. Alphonse knew how he felt about Hohenheim, everyone probably did, as Edward made no efforts to conceal the fact. And for some reason that Edward couldn't really explain, he had thought Alphonse, if not sharing his exact feelings, didn't want to be around their father, either. Selfish as it was, it seemed to be the default thing, Alphonse avoiding the topic entirely for what Edward had thought was his own peace of mind. Now he was wondering if it was more because Alphonse simply didn't want to have to lie to Edward, or bring it up and face the consequences.

"You...go see Hohenheim?" he asked, the edges of a hurt laugh in his voice.

"Yeah, Edward, imagine that. I go and enjoy seeing our dad. What is it you have against him?"

"_Everything,_" Edward snapped out, then he clenched his teeth, not wanting to get into this.

"Like _what_," Alphonse asked, determined to push the matter. "What is _so terrible_ in your mind that you would go and wall off everything from him, and then blame him for it?"

"Oh, I don't know, how about leaving Mom with two kids out in the middle of nowhere?"

The words were out before Edward could stop himself, and he clenched his fists, wishing he could take them back. Alphonse was staring at him in a way that said he could hardly believe his own brother, and Edward hated it. He looked up at Alphonse, daring him to laugh or reprimand him.

"You blame _Dad_ for that? But they agreed on it-"

"Yeah, because Mom wasn't the type to go and cause trouble!"

"But she wasn't the kind to be a doormat, either! Edward-"

"Don't you see it, though," Edward snapped, voice rising as his temper sparked, but he didn't care anymore. He was headed down this path and Edward had long since learned that he wasn't the kind to have built-in brakes. "He was probably the exact same as he is now, putting work first, always talking about it, emphasizing it, on and on and on, making it clear that he couldn't leave Central to go live and actually have a life with Mom! Mom probably came up with the idea of them being separated, and he was so damn selfish that he didn't bother talking her out of it. If he'd been there, then she probably wouldn't-"

"Wouldn't be dead?" Alphonse asked, voice cold as a stone. Edward looked away, lips pursed.

"I didn't say that."

"You were going to."

"So? If he'd actually given a damn and stuck around, maybe he might have helped her keep an eye on two kids like us, make sure that we weren't playing on those freakin' railroad tracks."

"No one could have predicted that, Ed! No one's going to guess that a chain of events would result in you losing your arm and leg, Mom dying and all of us suffering from crushing amounts of guilt. Don't you think Dad _knows_ that he could have probably changed things if he had stuck around? Don't you think that thought has crossed his mind every day since she died? Why do you think that he went and got you some of the most expensive automail on the market?"

"Because he wanted his son to look as good as possible."

"Because he couldn't stand to leave his son a cripple!" Alphonse was shouting now, voice wild and angry, the complete opposite of him. Edward was harsh, surgical, cutting to the point and slicing through Alphonse's soul in the process.

Edward closed his eyes, hating Alphonse's words and how they didn't just bounce off of him, but they were knives sinking into his skin.

"I don't-"

"The fact is, Edward, you need to stop hating him for what happened. Forgive him, because he made his decision, and it may not have been the best one, but it was the one he made and there is _nothing_ anyone can to do take that back. Just stop playing this hate game, please! No," he corrected himself, a hard, painful smile twisting his lips. "No, that's not what this is. This is just you being a _coward_, that's all! You've been running for so long, hiding from your own feelings and beliefs, you don't even remember _how_ to forgive someone."

"Shut up! You don't know _anything_, Al! You think I'm, what, _projecting_ this onto that bastard, that I really just blame myself for Mom's death, but it's easier to lie to myself for years than face that?"

"I don't know, maybe. Is that it?"

"I don't know, Al! Hell, why are you so desperate to know?"

"Because I see you ripping out every little thing in your life and leaving it to bleed while you walk away, and I _can't do that, _not any more!"

"So if I just walk up to Hohenheim, start calling him 'dad', smile and act like I don't hate him for never being there, that'll make everything better? Fake it 'til I make it, that it?"

"It'd be a start! You don't have one good thing to say about him, and he's your own father! He has only tried to help you, all your life! He took care of Mom, made sure we had everything we needed—"

"She was a kept woman, Al. Who knows who else he had in Central."

"Don't you _dare_ say that. He loved Mom, still loves her, more than that!" Alphonse jumped to his feet, truly irate now. Edward stared down his brother, and just gave a '_hah_' of disbelief. Alphonse looked at him, shaking his head in quiet disgust.

"You know, this is exactly what you are doing to Winry."

Edward straightened at the mention of her name, every muscle seeming to tense.

"What about her," he grit out, utterly torn. A part of him wanted to know just what it was Alphonse had to say, but he also wanted to get up and leave and never hear her name again.

"You shoved her away, and she doesn't know why. You think that doesn't hurt her? She is one of the people who truly _cares_ about you, and you've tossed her aside because, what, you got bored?"

"_No,_" he snapped, disgusted by the thought. "I told you, it just didn't work out, being friends. We're...different people."

"That's bullshit," Alphonse said flatly, and Edward jumped at the sound of his brother swearing. "You got on _fine._ Was it because she pointed out some truth you didn't want to hear?"

"No, I just—"

"What, Edward?"

"_I didn't want to have to get close to someone who would just leave me!"_ Edward practically yelled, eyes closed and fists raised as if he would slam them on the table. He could feel Alphonse freeze from across the table, staring at him like he was some sad, broken creature, something that needed to be pitied.

"Edward, I..."

"Save it," Edward said, not meeting his eyes.

"No, if that's really what you think people are like, then—"

"_Yes,_ that's exactly what I think people are like, cut, paste, let it dry. This isn't some weird conspiracy I've cooked up, this is something that I have learned time and time again."

"You...really think that everyone's going to leave you? Even...me?" Alphonse sounded hurt, shocked and confused, and it killed Edward. He wanted to assure him that he never thought that, that it only applied to other people, but Edward was tired of lying to people. Especially himself.

"Yes. No, I don't know. All I know is, if I get close to people, if I let them take that bit of me, they're just going to disappoint. I'll learn that they're not the person I thought, they'll die, they won't be able to help me the way I need, they'll only betray me, whatever fits." Edward gave a dark laugh, shaking his head. His floodgates had cracked open, and a small, careless part of him was figuring _'why not?'_ as he flung every twisted, bitter thought he'd had on the subject in the space between them.

"You know, it's really just insanity the way people connect with each other. We have, what, a few close conversations, 'meaningful' moments and then suddenly we're handing each other our souls and then sending them out to sea? It's nuts, giving strangers our secrets, letting them know what it is that makes us laugh and cry. People by nature are destructive and are only going to rip things apart! What do you think happens to something as fragile as each other, Al?"

Alphonse stared at him, shaking his head with his mouth slightly open.

"Is that _really_ what you've come to think? That people are just going to disappoint you, no matter what? Is it because of Mom dying when we were kids? And then Dad, you don't want to go through losing someone again, can't bear to have to give up something and move on? Are you _really_ telling me that's what you think about the entirety of humanity and our relationships, Edward?"

He grit his teeth, glaring at his automail hand and thinking that it was a damn shame for him that Alphonse was so smart, because he had hit the nail on the head and now Edward was left to confront everything. Alphonse had been right the entire time, yes, Edward had been running himself stupid, trying to stay ahead of the guilt and shame and pain he had been seeing in everything, but now was definitely not the time to stop, not when he had so much to suffer for.

"You know, as messed up as it is, it makes a lot of sense. Why you didn't want to be friends with anyone at first, the way you practice the piano instead of go eat and socialize with people at lunch. You are so _selfish_ to think that you can do that, run into people's lives and help them and save them and then just step away, hate them later for trying to reciprocate, all because of something they're not even doing."

"And if that's it?" Edward said, unable to let Alphonse continue to just _talk_ at him anymore. "And if I couldn't stand to be around Winry because I realized that if I let her come any closer, there'd be nothing left untouched by pain, I'd never be able to stay safe? That when she finally left, went back to Resembool, turned out to be something else, couldn't stand to be around someone whose everything had just gone to shit, when she was finally gone, I wouldn't be able to keep going anymore? _I can't take that again,_ Al! I want her back, but I can't! Is there such a problem with the only way I have left to save myself?"

"_You don't need saving!" _Alphonse yelled at him, dark green eyes furious and upset. He stalked around the table so that he was within arm's reach of Edward, staring him in the face. "Other than from yourself, you _don't need saving. _People aren't going to hurt you like that, Ed. Yeah, some might, and there's nothing you can do about that, but Ed, in the end, people are basically _good._"

Edward stared at him a moment, wanting to believe it, wanting to give in and face everything that was jumping on his back and dragging him down into the waters below, but he couldn't. The thought of surrendering, letting himself go limp and _pray_ someone would be there to grab him back up, it was too much for Edward. That kind of faith he was certain never came for free.

He pushed himself back from the table, turning his back from Alphonse as he got up.

"I'm going out," he said, voice so, so cold. Alphonse stepped back like he had just slapped him in the face, words not coming for a moment.

"Where?" he asked, suddenly sounding smaller and so horribly confused.

"_Out!"_ Edward yelled over his shoulder, about to break down into a complete mess because he didn't know what was left for him to believe anymore, where it was he had left to turn, and he couldn't let Alphonse see that.

As he stepped through the doorway, a crash exploded beside his ear. Edward ducked as he walked, nearly jumping out of his skin as a shard of something sliced past his ear, and he turned to see Alphonse, chest heaving as he glared at Edward, fists clenched at his sides as the last pieces of Edward's plate settled.

Edward stormed through the house, shooting glares at the hatefully serene furniture and paintings. He felt like they should be exploding around him, ripped apart, strewn everything, just to reflect how he felt. Edward had _never _argued with Alphonse before, not like this. Sure, they had their disagreements, but this was terrible. It made him feel absolutely sick, because Alphonse was always the one there for Edward, and now he had lashed out at him for it. Was there _anything_ left in Edward's world that was sane?

He was about to slam open the door, but then Alphonse's words from earlier hit him. He paused then doubled back, cutting through the house silently. Some of the servants might have been roused by his argument, and gone to inspect the remains. Meeting them was the last thing he wanted at the moment.

Edward opened the door to the small room between the main house and the side garage, then walked over to the key rack. He searched it for a new set of keys, the ring only holding one key and the remote, then grabbed it, not feeling the clean joy he had earlier at the thought of having his own car.

Opening the door to the garage, Edward reached up and opened the garage door, the light automatically flicking on as the door rustled back. He clicked the unlock button on his remote, waiting for the perfect dark blue pick up's lights to flash. They did and he hurried over, pausing in front of it to regret the fact that his first ride in it would be a means of escape from the truth, then jumped in.

By the time he had closed the garage door, and had pulled out onto the street, Edward didn't feel so terrible. It wasn't that he had reconciled with it, it just happened to be much slower than him, now.

* * *

><p><em>AN OKAY I HOPE ALL QUESTIONS ABOUT WHY EDWARD DID WHAT HE DID WERE ANSWERED IT WAS JUST A REALLY AMBIGUOUS THING IN MY HEAD AND I HOPE I MANAGED TO DO IT JUSTICE. I'm glad Ed and Al managed to get everything out, but I just wish it happened in a less painful way (no, no I don't. That is all a lie).<em>

_Next chapter is going to be a Royai one, AND THEN I PROMISE YOUR QUESTIONS ABOUT WINRY WILL BE ANSWERED._

_Also, just as an fyi, Edward is taller in my story, like at the end of the manga. It's for a number of reasons, but mostly because he drank milk (dried or otherwise) after his mom died, providing the proper nutrients for bone growth. The more you knoooooow~_

_Silly Things - Wild Child__  
>Whisper - Ernie Halter<br>__Ashes - Andy Brown  
>Liebestraum No. 3 - Franz Liszt<br>__Morning Comes - Delta Rae__  
><em>_Do or Don't - All My Pretty Ones__  
><em>_No Love - Little Dragon__  
><em>_Liar - Mumford and Sons_


	32. Rhapsody in Blue

_AN I feel kind of guilty for making this chapter Riza's POV, because I finally tallied it all up and realized that Roy has only had about three chapters from his POV, but I just click more for Riza. I guess I enjoy her seeing and absorbing the tempest that is Roy, rather than standing at the eye of the storm and describing what is seen through his lens. Same goes for Ed, I wish I could do more, but I just...it's always Winry OTL_

_OKAY IT'S ALMOST MIDNIGHT I WANT TO SLEEP DON'T JUDGE ME FOR STUPID MISTAKES I'LL DEAL WITH THEM SOON. THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED AND GAVE FAB INSIGHTFUL COMMENTS AND SONGS AND ASDFJKL; THANK YOU._

_QUICK IMPORTANT NOTE FOR ANYONE I DIDN'T TELL ALREADY: CHAPTERS 30-33 ALL TAKE PLACE AT ROUGHLY THE SAME TIME. There is some degree of overlap, like how 30 is in the afternoon, 31 afternoon to evening, etc, because that's just how it worked out. Chapter 33, however, takes place moments after chapter 30, so you won't have missed anything. Next chapter we will get back to Winry, so don't worry._

* * *

><p>The sound of her violin still echoed around in Riza's head as she stood in the kitchen, holding a cup of tea. The winter concert was only a skip away, and though she had some mild performance anxieties about it, she was certain she would do well. If her practice just now was any evidence, she would do even better. There was something unexplainably <em>good<em> about managing to work a difficult passage perfectly, being caught up in the music so that all thoughts of fingering, timing, and dynamics dropped to the floor, leaving Riza to just _play._ It was like her soul had grabbed the bow and had started playing, a perfect display of her very being.

Some people got their thrills from shopping or winning a race, but Riza preferred the personal accomplishment of forgetting that she existed in the face of music.

"It's just not something you can find every day," she said to Black Hayate, crouching down to him and rubbing his back. He tilted his head as if asking her to explain more, making Riza laugh into her mug.

She stood back up, sighing through her nose as she glanced around her darkened house, wondering what other people her age did on Friday nights. Went to the movies, probably, or parties, or hung out with friends. Riza didn't mind spending her nights alone with the lights off and only her music and dog for company, but she did wonder what she could have been doing, whom she could have been with. Rebecca sometimes joked that if anything happened to Roy, Riza would end up a biddy, talking only to her dog and the books at the library where she would obviously work. Whenever Riza actually deigned to answer such a comment, she would merely point out that she wasn't a social butterfly like Rebecca, flitting from place to place with a desperation that was both shocking and amusing. That typically left Rebecca speechless, on the verge of snapping back good naturedly, but unable to deny or deflect the truth of the matter.

"_Riza! _Come on, open up, I know you're in there!"

Riza nearly dropped her mug of tea as an inhumanly loud banging shook her door, along with a rough shout. Black Hayate was startled as well as the noise shattered the dark (and pointedly _silent_) serenity of her house, barking wildly with his hair on end as he skittered to hide under her bed.

The pounding started up again, and she guessed that the person was slamming his open palm on the other side of the door, as if too tired or careless to open their fist. She set down her tea and walked quickly to the door, not bothering to pull up a mask of control or indifference or even irritation. She knew who it was beating her door to pieces at seven o'clock at night.

Still, Riza checked the peephole, wanting to get any extra warning as to the state Roy was in that she could. He was leaning against the door, head ducked just below the peephole, bracing himself up with his head and arms. Not good.

"Step back," she called through the door, then unlocked and opened it. Roy was angrier than he had been in a long time, hair disheveled from where he'd tugged at and run his fingers through it. His hands looked like they'd hit a number of things, red and raw, and he looked like he had run a mile. Which may not have been far off.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, not caring that blatant alarm jumped through her voice, as she was far more preoccupied with making sure he didn't smell like liquor or smoke. This was the exact mood that sent Roy spiraling back into doing something both illegal and stupid.

He shook his head, shrugged, grit his teeth.

"Nothing, no, _augh sonovabitch—_" Roy cut himself off as he slammed the side of his fist into the brick wall by the door, making Riza jump. She stared at him as he dragged his hand down it, scraping away skin from both the side of his hand and the knuckles.

"What, Roy, _no!_ Stop it—" she gasped, catching his wrist and tugging it away from further harm. He looked at her, a wild thing on the verge of tearing itself apart over something she could not imagine. Riza felt herself breaking apart because all she wanted to was to hold him tight and wash away his hurt with her touch. But she couldn't, she had to stand around and wait for answers and solutions the same way everyone else did.

"Please, distract me."

"What?" Riza repeated, mind thrown off track as she remembered that she had to deal with the very immediate problem of Roy being a creature of action and words, not one that would sit around for her to examine and feel over at her leisure. Still, she noticed how incredibly raspy his voice was, like he had lost it amidst a bundle of shouting. Or maybe breathing in copious amounts of smoke.

"Distract me so I don't go burn down each of their damn houses," he growled, clearly trying so, so hard not to keep shouting. The words made her stomach flip, because panic was creeping in at the potential implications. Did that mean he had already burned a building down, or was he merely tempted to? Admittedly, she couldn't see any traces of arson, but then, he was very good at hiding the fact that he had spent the last hour burning something down.

She shook her head, sharply reprimanding herself to have a bit of faith in Roy. Most likely, he had not set anything on fire. And he didn't seem to be drunk, especially after his last two comments. His rage was so sharp, so clear, there was no way he could be intoxicated.

"How? How am I supposed to _distract_ you?" It was a question already, but Riza couldn't hide the utter confusion and doubt in her voice. She had no idea what she was supposed to be distracting him _from_, for crying out loud.

"I don't know, tell me it doesn't matter, make me lemonade, I don't care."

Riza set her jaw and clasped his hands in both of hers, looking into the ebony eyes that were still sparking with anger.

"It doesn't matter, Roy," Riza told him, and even to herself she sounded like she knew what was going on, like she knew what she was doing. Her voice was calm and quiet and she gave the smallest of sincere smiles to let him know that _it was alright, _he could let this go. Roy blinked, clearly fighting both his anger and her calming influence, but his eyes softened, just a little. She pressed a hand against his jaw, feeling it work up and down as his emotions went fisticuffs inside of him. He relaxed into her ever so slightly, pressing into her touch, which stood firm even though it was soft.

"It's all going to be okay, alright, Roy?" she murmured, and their foreheads were almost touching as he nodded, slowly, slowly, giving the volatile, destructive part of his anger away.

"A-alright," he said, voice low and ragged. Roy blinked, frowning a little.

"You're way too good at this, you know that? It's a little scary."

She laughed and shook her head, trying to smother the shy little butterflies that had suddenly sprung up in her stomach. Now was not the time to turn into a stupid, giggly girl. She had to be a rock, an anchor, Roy's safe harbor.

"Just come in, Mr. Mustang, before you're thrown in jail for disturbing the peace."

_Or arson,_ Riza thought, but didn't let that leave her lips.

Riza led him inside, leaving him at the table as she left to get some cotton balls and bandages from her bathroom. She hurried through the hall to her room, sparing a glance for Black Hayate, who was just barely peering out from under her bed.

"It's okay," she murmured, but she wasn't sure if it was for his benefit or hers as she grabbed the band aids and antiseptic from the bathroom. Riza walked back to the kitchen, taking a few breaths and pulling herself a little bit more together.

"Regretting skinning your hand yet?" Riza asked as she breezed back in, bars of orange light splashing onto Roy from her window. He looked at her darkly, though she supposed that was more incidental than intentional. Riza quickly poured some water into a bowl, then went to sit beside him. She paused, then grabbed a mug from the cabinet and hurriedly made Roy a cup of tea. Riza carried her mug, Roy's, and the bowl of water towards the table, giving him a look that said he better not start throwing or breaking things, because she did _not _want to clean up spilled tea. She gestured for him to extend his injured hand, which had started to bleed.

"You know, I always thought you were more the tough love kind of person over stuff like this," he muttered grumpily, and Riza shot him a look, grabbing a cotton ball and taking his hand.

"In a sense. I figure that if you're stupid enough to do something like this to yourself, you should suck it up and deal with it, but in _your _case, Roy, you're stupid enough to just leave it until it gets infected," she said, smiling tightly as she wiped his scrapes rather forcefully with a cotton ball.

"Ah, _geez Riza_, I need those!" he gasped, jerking his hand away. She shot him a look, and said "You should have thought about that before you dragged them down the bricks on my house."

He clenched his teeth as she applied antiseptic, then wrapped it all up with a few well placed band aids.

"So, what's the reason for the anger?" she asked, and instantly Roy's scowl came back, and he clenched his hand, unintentionally catching her fingers up in his grip. Riza winced slightly from how tightly he was holding her, making Roy pause them loosen his grip.

"Nothing," he spat, looking away. Riza gave him a hard look, but he refused to meet her eye. "Please, Riza, talk about something else, or else I'm going to break something."

"Alright. Alright," she said reluctantly, picking his hand up again. She ran her thumb over one of his bandages, enjoying the reassuring feel of the fabric stretched tight over his skin, protecting him the best it could.

"I'd forgotten how self destructive you used to be," she said after a moment, catching them both by surprise. Roy looked at her in confusion, unsure where she was headed, and to be honest, Riza wasn't sure either. She would go with it though, as it was the only thing she could think of to say.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "I was a mess, worse than now. I just—didn't know how to make _anything_ work, and breaking something felt better than just _sitting _here, being a good boy."

"Until you've stopped breaking things. Until you've got nothing left to wreck, and you look around and realize that that was it."

"I said _distract _me, not _lecture_ me, Riza," Roy practically snarled. Riza gave him a look, a hard warning that reminded him that he _was_ in her house, and that she retained every single right to kick him out. He dropped his eyes in submission, and he seemed to deflate a little bit, the anger stamping itself out into something less.

"I'm sorry, Riza, I just—I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. It's not like before, I _thought_ I understood what I was dealing with, that I just had to push a little to make the door open and I'd have my answers. And I pushed and pushed, and then what fell out on top of me...it's awful."

"What is it?" she asked, leaning to him. She tilted her head down to try to meet his eye, but Roy looked away again, and suddenly she realized how close she was to him, how very easy it would be to just go and kiss him, make him forget every single worry he had, if only for a few seconds. A part of her wanted to, because that was easier, but she knew that would be a horrible misuse of everything she loved about Roy, and her relationship with Roy. That little lie would be a drop of poison in them, and they didn't need any more pain and lies.

"I...I don't want to," he said, suddenly pleading with her. He was asking Riza for an easy out, the out she wanted to give him, but knew she couldn't, shouldn't. She leaned back, hoping he could read in her eyes how much she did not enjoy this.

"Roy."

"Corruption," he finally spat, shaking his head. "I was a freakin' idiot, Riza, to think that this place was all fine and dandy, fit for me to just sidle in with my ambitions and friends. But it's thick with lies and corruption, and I don't want...I don't want it anymore. Not if it means dealing with people like this."

"Like what?"

He just shook his head, looking disgusted and utterly unable of saying what. At least, not yet. She pursed her lips, then put a hand on his cheek again. Roy looked her in the eyes, let out a shuddery breath, one laced with the premonition of tears.

Roy blinked, and Riza realized how _close_ they were yet again, making her panic for a moment, because again for the first time in far too soon a time, there was The Line but this time for different reasons and purposes and if they crossed it everything could go downhill, fast, but then she took a breath, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. She needed to stop thinking so much, because it just gave her a headache and she couldn't afford that right now.

She glanced at Roy, unable to deny how incredibly intoxicating it was, having Roy so close when they were so alone and it was so dark, because she could kiss him and no one would know, another delicious little secret tied to her chest. Deep excitement was stirring in her, caused only by breaking the rules with Roy. Especially if she had made them herself.

He was looking at her through his anger and pain, expression saying that he could hardly believe she was real, for some reason or another. He took in every feature, dutifully scanning her skin, her nose, her mouth. Roy's lashes were dark and lovely, and every few moments he would glance up at her, a tiny smile growing on his face. She bit her lips together, wondering if this was how things would always turn out whenever Roy hurt. Him shattering apart and her desperately trying to pick up the pieces until he finally just kissed her like she was rare and precious and sweet, which he did within moments of her thinking it.

He leaned forward through the last little breath of space between them, pressing his mouth against her. It hurt Riza, because it was fueled by a half hearted wish to forget and go to some place better, but it also made her feel _so good _that she hated herself.

Riza was the first one to pull away, moments or minutes later, gasping slightly, shaken by the hopeless desperation that had flooded through to her. Roy pressed his forehead against her shoulder, panting as well. His hands were clenched, pressed into the tops of her knees. She grimaced, shifting, and he pulled his hands away, pressing them flat against his lap.

"Riza, what am I going to _do?_" he asked, and she sighed.

"Roy, I don't even know what the problem is, really."

His breath caught, and he sat up, looking away again. Riza put her hand over his, the only bit of sparse comfort she could think to give.

"I was talking to Madame Christmas," he said after a moment, and she wondered if this was an explanation or a distraction. "And she said...she told me that one of the girl's customers overheard part of a conversation. It was some big CEO, and he didn't know she was listening, and apparently...he was in deep with some gang, and he was warning someone he worked with, and he said-he said-if they didn't act right, then they would end up like Hughes."

"What?"

Riza stared at Roy, head and heart stuttering in time with each other. For a second her removed, rational side absorbed his words and made everything fit clearly in her head, but then the other side that muddled everything up with emotion caught up and shock washed over her and she wanted to start shaking her head and demanding _what_ over and over again until something clicked.

"Hughes...you mean—"

"Maes' father, Hughes." Roy's voice sounded hard, like it had no space left for softness after having been squeezed past whatever it was he had in his throat, and his eyes, which were still focused on her couch, seemed to glint with the shadow of tears.

"He went on to say that they, whoever they are, wouldn't come after that person specifically, but the ones they loved. He was a casualty of war, Riza," Roy said, finally looking at her.

"It all makes sense," she breathed, feeling rather like Roy had slammed her in the stomach with a recliner, instead of the truth. That one little key had clicked into place, explaining the confusing facts they had been stumbling around for _weeks._ The reason that person had hit Maes and run, the frame up for Maria, why her family moved her away afterwards. Everyone had written it off to her family trying to avoid any bad press after doing damage control on the situation, but Riza suspected that if she and Roy were to dig a little deeper, they would find that the Ross family had refused dealings with the gang, whoever they might be, as well.

_Two birds with one stone,_ she thought grimly, feeling slightly sick, because who could be that _cruel,_ to destroy the lives of two innocent teens?

"And just before, shit, it's all too perfect, he told me that his dad had been working on this case about some gang's hold bleeding out of street trash into high profile businesses," Roy said, the words gritting out past a painful laugh. Falman's father was the police commissioner of Central, and just about the most upstanding man Riza knew. Ever since Maes' accident, he had kept an ear to the ground in case his father had shaken something loose. Apparently, he had.

"They think all _sorts_ of crimes have been committed by this gang, kidnappings, embezzlement, rigging stocks, technology skipping straight to the black market…anything and every, Riza, and we just—we were nicked, caught in the down draft. These thugs like going after the kids of whoever they're trying to get in bed with, because the cameras aren't on them all the time, they're likely to go do stupid things were no one can see, without the safety of a top of the line security system, body guards, and some boy toy or mistress as a witness."

"No, Roy," she sighed, because there was no louder sound she could make with all of this crashing down on top of her. She didn't want to be wrapped up in some conspiracy, on any scale.

A thought occurred to her, making her want to vomit.

"And the kids…are they all from St. Bradley's?"

"No, not all of them. From what I can tell, there's two or three schools the kids are being picked from, but you can bet your ass they're all tied to St. Bradley's."

"You don't think someone important at the school's selling the kids out? Storch or maybe even Bradley himself?"

"I don't know, Riza, I_ don't know._ I just…"

He looked away, pressing his lips tight. He picked up his mug of forgotten tea, staring into it moodily as he tried to pull himself under control. Riza took a breath and stared at her hands as he took a drink, wishing she was a normal kid with normal parents and no trust fund that amounted to far more than some people would make in all their life time.

"All I know," Roy began, voice shaking, "is that my best friend was nearly _killed_ because his father wasn't about to consort with some _gang _to fix things, and they dragged down another family to do it, like they were batting flies out of the air, like it was nothing. I don't know if it's because the people running St. Bradley's are in deep with them or if it's just coincidence or _what, _I just…I just don't know anymore."

He was silent for a moment, then looked at her with an expression that said he was so, so lost.

"Why does this happen, Riza?" Roy asked, staring at her with eyes that said they _hurt,_ because it was yet again too much for him to bear. "The good guys, hell, the _perfect_ guys like Maes aren't supposed to get hurt like that, they aren't supposed to be targeted when their dads are decent freaking people, or be blamed for some terrible crime or even a life ruining accident just because it's _convenient_ like Maria was_._ What kind of shit world are we living in?"

The last words were a whisper, a sigh, the last bit of breath holding Roy upright finally slipping out.

"Why am I the one, the bad one, the selfish one, the broken one, why am _I_ not the one that's punished, but left here to stand while everyone else falls?" he asked, holding Riza's hand like it was his last tie to the world, to sense, to sanity.

In that moment, Riza's heart bled for Roy, because she had never understood his very being like this before. It took this, Roy having every proper understanding of the world being stripped away from him on top of having his soul shredded to pieces for her to finally get him. People thought he was some cold bastard, utterly unfeeling in the face of calamity and heartache, but that was such a lie. Instead, Roy was burning white hot every second of the day, forever feeling an unrestricted version of every emotion. And so he had to work so, _so_ hard to keep that from spilling out and destroying everything, especially himself.

Certainly, people noticed how intense he became over his passions, it was impossible not to feel swept along in his fire when that happened, but even she hadn't realized that that was just the dregs slipping out, just him opening the stops a little because it was alright, it was safe. It made Riza want to scream and sob because there should _never_ be a point in _anyone_'s life that this was necessary. Everyone thinking that Roy was a stuck up asshole of a party prince since the age of fourteen could never have been safer than having them see to his center and know how much he truly felt. But then, she supposed that there wasn't really a way to display pleasure and gratitude and humility (which, granted, Roy didn't necessarily experience) in their proper forms when he was trying so hard to keep everything else back.

Riza leaned forward and hugged Roy, tears speckling her cheeks. She had no idea if it was for her, or Roy, or Hughes, or Maria, or either of their families, but she truly didn't _care,_ because at this point, it didn't matter. Pain was pain, and having it aimed in sympathy for someone didn't make it hurt less.

"Because life is an asshole and doesn't distinguish how good you are when it's screwing you over," she said, resting her chin on top of his head. "And you can't just _quit_ because things aren't _fair,_ because they'll never be _fair,_they'll suck and make no sense and the bad guys will win and the good guys will win but it never seems like enough because there's always that draw back, always that 'but' that makes you feel sick to your stomach some days. People get hurt because that's just what happens, and you can't stop that, because it's fate, it's chance, it's _what ever_ happens and we're just people, we just bob along and try to keep our heads above the water."

She was babbling, Riza knew she was, but she really didn't care because she was tired of holding herself together, the same way Roy was tired of holding himself together. They didn't need to, not around each other, not when it was just so much _easier_ to finally fall apart and start sobbing.

Her tears were falling into his hair, and his tears were falling onto her shoulder, both their hands clenched into each other's shirts.

"These people…what's one arrogant, alcoholic, sex addicted teenager going to do against _them?_ Can't I just leave it all alone? Can't I just…give up?" he asked, and he sounded so defeated, so empty, so _broken_ as he mumbled into her shirt, making Riza feel sick. This wasn't her Roy, the one with the constantly whirring mind that never gave up on anything, ever. Not the one that met resistance and figured out some damnably clever way of dealing with it so that he could surmount it and then use it for his own purposes later. This was just a boy, crying into her shirt because he knew he didn't belong in the terrifying, grown up world he longed for, not when it meant all ideals and promises of decency were tossed out the window. Not when he thought maybe his loved ones might suffer so terribly much if he tried to bleed out as much of the corruption as he could.

"You could," Riza told him, and her voice sounded flat and cold in her mouth, something that didn't belong there. "You could just walk away, have done with it all, because you know what, Roy? They're just gonna hurt you. They'll see that you're trying to make things better as you climb your way to the top, and they'll know that you will not stoop to their levels, and that will make it easy for them to make you bleed. If you quit now, you certainly won't hurt so much."

"But other people will," he whispered, voice catching. He sounded like he was going to be sick, facing two atrocious options and knowing there was no way out.

"Yes, Roy. Other people will hurt because there wouldn't be a you up top killing some of the monsters before they reach the bottom. Do you really want that, Roy? Do you want to leave it all to get worse, to rot and wither and destroy everything?"

"_No_."

The word was hard and angry, a rock thrown at the thought of just stepping aside in the face of evil. Roy sat up, clenching his teeth. A tear dropped to the table, and he roughly scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. Riza took his hand again, one in both of hers, bringing it close to her as she spoke.

"So are you gonna let them stop you?"

Roy was silent for a long time, looking at her, unhappy in the face of this beast. He shook his head, and for a moment, Riza was scared that he might give in, might stop while he was kind of ahead, and at least not drowning in the mud.

"No," he finally said, and there was steel enough in his voice to make her stomach clench. "But I will _hate _myself for associating with those people, even if it means getting my feet under me. The things they allowed to happen, they refused to stop—"

He cut himself off, looking away again.

"No," he grit out. "It's all just going to slow me down and piss me off. But I'm not going to give it all up because of them."

"Good," she whispered, smiling. "I'd be really disappointed if you suddenly lost all ambition."

"You like that in a man, now do you, darling?" he asked, suddenly giving a weak smile. Riza smiled back, liking the cheeky light in his eyes, because it wasn't anger and it wasn't pain and it really wasn't bad at all.

Her stomach flipped again as she realized that this was probably the first time he had used any sort of pet name with her. Not a nickname, which was tossed around by all of her friends, but a term of affection, just for her. She leaned in, tilting her head to the side.

"Yes, actually, I do."

Roy pressed his forehead against Riza's, eyes closed, trying to get his bearings.

"And people say that _I'm _the one that knocks the world to its knees," he mumbled, making her huff out a laugh. "What they don't get is that I'm just the firework, the lights and big show. You're the spark that gets me going, and the stand, and the fuse—"

"And the water that puts you out," she said, making him laugh. The sound was sweet on her tongue, light and warm like what lemon and honey were supposed to be.

"I wasn't joking earlier when I said you were too good at this, Riza," he said, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, which he responded to in kind. "My _word _you are a force to contend with when you want something done, when you want to help someone."

"We can't all be combustible," she laughed, and could feel his smile in the air. "Some of us have to be little rainclouds of reason, to keep everything sane."

"That's it," he said, and Riza opened her eyes, pulling back just enough to look at him.

"What?"

"That's it, that's what you say. Whenever someone asks you what it is we have, because they have and they do and they always will, when they want to know what you do for me, what you are to me, just tell them. You keep me sane. You are calm and together because you are the rain, and you make me think that…"

He trailed off, as if a little self conscious. Roy had the most beautiful shy smile on his face, the one that came only when he forgot he was arrogant and rich and suffered from thousands of bad habits. She watched him, wishing he would always be like this, but then Riza supposed that if he was, she wouldn't love this smile quite so much.

"And you make me think that the world is still an okay place, a place that I still want to be in."

Riza smiled at him, feeling her chest fill up and wanting to cry again, but for entirely different reasons than before.

"Okay, Roy," she murmured, pulling him into a hug. "Okay, I'll tell people just that."

"That's my girl," he whispered into her ear, and Riza pressed her face into his shoulder, unable to keep from wishing that he needed a little less rain.

* * *

><p><em>AN I feel you, girl.<em>

_UGH FINALLY PROPER PLOT DEVELOPMENT GUYS SOMETIMES I HATE MYSELF FOR HAVING REALLY WEIRD TIMING FOR THE PLOT DELIVERY IT ALL FEELS SO CRAPPY AND UGH THANK YOU FOR CONTINUING TO READ THIS DESPITE MY MANY WRITING FAULTS._

_TAKE YOUR DUMB SONGS WHILE I CRY FROM FRUSTRATION AND GRATITUDE._

_Rhapsody in Blue - Gershwin  
>Just Give Me a Reason - Pink<br>My Funny Valentine - Chet Baker_


	33. Revolutionary

_AN THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR WONDERFUL WORDS SO HERE TAKE THIS CHAPTER THAT IS 30 WORDS SHY OF BEING 7,000._

_Also, ugh, I know that the Roy/Riza and the Ed/Winry story lines just became a mutated separate mess, and that is entirely my fault, but they do connect back together soon! Just sit tight my darlings, all will be explained soon~_

_This chapter is more accurately called 'Haha This Was a Great Idea a Year Ago, But Now That I'm Doing the Research, It's My Slow Descent into Insanity and a Realization I Have No Idea What I'm Even Doing'. It was a joke at the beginning of this chapter. Now it is my reality. I didn't want to write because I didn't know anything, but the more I researched I REALIZED I DIDN'T KNOW ANYTHING AND YOU CAN'T WRITE ABOUT SOMETHING THAT IS REALLY NOTHING._

_JUST READ IT AND IGNORE MISTAKES AND LAPSES IN LOGIC AND BE HAPPY YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO WINRY BECAUSE I. AM. **DONE.**_

* * *

><p>Winry dragged in her breaths, eyes squeezed tight shut as she tried to make herself keep thinking. The thought of her being never seen again kept worming its way into her brain, and all of the stories about stolen girls she had ever heard kept popping up, manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome, perverse wardens, cruel tortures, bodies found years later in completely different parts of the country...<p>

The sudden sound of a zipper being undone made her jump and snap her eyes open. She managed to wipe the remains of tear tracks from her cheek with her shoulder before the bag was opened enough for her captors to see her face.

To her surprise, it wasn't Greed or Envy looking down at her, but Lust. She looked as bored and mighty as ever, the barest traces of a condescending smirk on her lips.

Winry reluctantly sat up, glancing around. She had thought they had dropped her into a car, but now she saw it was a van, probably one meant for carrying around gardening supplies or the like, big and white and the kind that always had stolen girls in the back. She tried biting her cheek, but the towel in her mouth got in the way. Winry tried not to gag at the sensation, and wondered if screaming was worth it at this point. Envy sat to her left and Lust to her right, and Greed was somewhere outside of the van. If she made a noise or any fuss, there was no doubt that they would descend upon her and make sure she didn't make any trouble for a good long while.

"Well, looks like you two idiots didn't do too bad," she said to Envy, whom was sitting across from her in the back of the car, or rather, van. She scanned over Winry, accessing any damage that had been done. It chilled her to hear how mild Lust was, like she was surveying a lawn they had mowed, or a car they had fixed.

"What do you mean _two_ idiots?" Greed asked, opening the door just before Lust spoke and cutting over Envy's outraged retorts. Winry glanced around, trying to familiarize herself with the space. It was any typical utility van, the inside grey and unimpressive, from what she could see. There was a bench lining either one of the van walls, with a row of seats for the driver and passenger up front. Other than that, though, Winry saw nothing that could help her. Not that she would have been able to do much with her hands bound.

"Idiots?" Envy demanded, sounding irritated and just as ill tempered as when he spoke to her or Edward. He stomped his foot as he spoke, something that might have seemed childish from someone else, but now just seemed terrifying to Winry. However, Greed just seemed to find it amusing, as he snorted while starting up the engine. "Who are you calling _idiots? _And where do _you_ get off calling _me_ and idiot, Greed? Who the hell do you think came up with most of this plan?"

"Oh, shut up," Greed sighed, sounding completely casual, despite the bound girl in the back of his van. "We know you're feelin' pretty hot after pulling this whole thing off, but you can ease up on your high and mighty gig. Why don't you terrorize Little Miss Something back there, instead of yakking my ear off?"

Envy turned his eyes back on Winry, and she felt her stomach drop. His terrifying sneer was back, too awful and malicious to be an actual smile. He slid off of his bench, kneeling down beside her.

"Now that we've got some time and you're not trying to get away, let me explain this whole thing to you, to make this whole thing easier for us," Envy whispered to her, and it was like the words crawled into her brain despite the incredibly loud rattle and hum of the van beneath her head. They didn't seem to need sound, understanding just dawning in her head.

"No one knows you're gone, and they won't for a _good_ long while. There is _no one_ coming to find you, no police, no friends, no family. By the time anyone even realizes you are gone we will wrap you up all nice and neat and stuff you away somewhere until you've served your purpose. If you try to fight us, I will ruin each of your pretty little hands," he said, taking her left wrist in an iron grip. "If you try to escape or call for help, I will break your legs and make sure you can't do that singing that you love so much ever again."

Winry swallowed, trying not to burst into tears right there. Envy had moved his hand to her neck, and images of him throttling her sprang into her head. He seemed to be waiting for her respond, so she nodded, biting her cheeks.

"Honestly," Envy continued, "if you make things difficult in any way, if you disobey something we tell you to do, talk back, _anything,_ I swear you will wish I had just broken a few bones."

She nodded again, and the grip he had shifted to her shoulder felt like an anvil pressed against her skin, heavy with all of the horrific implications. Winry wanted desperately to close her eyes and try to escape the horrible reality of what she was facing, even if just for a second, but she was scared at if she did, something worse would happen.

Envy suddenly snapped his hand back, hissing. Winry looked around, confused as a drop of blood fell onto her cheek. She pressed down her nausea, focusing on the knife in Lust's hand, which was pointed at Envy. Lust's expression hadn't really changed, except to look more annoyed than before, glaring at Envy, who was wiping away the blood dripping from a cut on his cheek.

"You know what orders were," she told him, and her voice was so hard and heartless that it scared Winry almost more than Envy's threats. If she acted this way towards her fellow gang member, what on earth did that mean for Winry?

"Damn psycho bitch," Envy grunted, snarling at her. "I know what orders are, but you really think I want to wait hand and foot on this brat?"

"You mean the girl only a couple of years younger than yourself?" Lust asked, raising an eyebrow and folding her arms, knife held delicately out to side. "And you won't be _waiting_ on her, just making sure she isn't damaged. The plan won't work if you hurt her, it'll just complicate things. That said," she added, turning her haughty gaze towards Winry, "it doesn't mean we won't make good on punishing you if you do try to interfere with our plans. He won't lay a hand on you if you're good."

Winry dropped her eyes, wondering how she had ever been pulled into this insanity. A few months ago, she was in Resembool, fixing up automail and hanging around Harry's bar to kill time. What had she _ever_ done to deserve being kidnapped by a gang of psychopaths? Even Lust, who seemed to be her comparative guardian angel here was ready and willing to make her suffer if she acted out of line.

_What's out of line with these people, though? _she wondered, grimacing as Greed took a sharp corner, sending her knees smacking into the supports of the bench Lust was sitting on. _Lust didn't hesitate to cut Envy's face to make a point. Is that going to happen to me?_

The rest of the ride was uneventful, the only thing to interrupt the series of sudden turns that sent Winry sliding across the floor. She would have moved or shifted or anchored herself down in some way, but after the speech about breaking her legs, she was reluctant to do anything that might anger these people.

Envy and Lust spoke quietly while Greed drove, talking about something that made absolutely no sense to Winry. Phrases like _Father's just waiting for confirmation_ and _there's no way that they're going to dare do anything, not if they care at all about the brats _and, most worrisome of all, _we're sure that we can get in? I don't trust the kid._

Winry dropped her eyes, trying to keep her lungs from seizing. Whatever it was the Ouroboroughs had planned, it seemed to involve a lot of children and threats. It felt like they were tiptoeing around some bigger plan, unwilling to say too much around her. Hopefully that meant they were going to let her go after a ransom was paid or something, but the more realistic side of her said that they were just being cautious. If she _did_ somehow manage to escape them, they couldn't go spilling their entire plan in front of her, especially if it was a big one.

Finally, after what seemed to be forever, the van stopped. Winry wished she was familiar enough with the city to have been able to keep track of where they were from just the directions they had turned, but she had been disoriented to begin with, unable to keep track of any of the turns they made at first.

Envy leaned over to her and fastened a blindfold across her eyes, and Winry strained, trying to see through the cloth. It had been folded over itself, though, so that she couldn't see anything, even when the back van doors had been opened.

Lust cut the zip ties binding Winry's ankles and told her to get out, making Winry slowly inch her way forwards, making her curse every single thing that came to her mind.

Of course these particular gang bangers were paranoid, and didn't want her to be able to identify any of her surroundings, they just had to blindfold her _before_ she was even by the van doors. Why were they even kidnapping her, anyways? Sure, she had no small fortune that she was going to come into when she was eighteen, but there was no one to demand it from, no family to send ransom letters to. Perhaps this was aimed at the school, it would hardly surprise her if St. Bradley's was the kind of school that would willingly pay for the freedom of one of their students. They probably had an entire team on hand for occasions like this, but why would the Ouroboroughs choose _her?_ Winry was the new girl, unimportant and again, with no one for the school to impress. Why not steal someone like Roy, or Rose, or Edward?

Winry's hand slipped over the edge of the van, making her inside jolt before she caught herself. Strangely, that was nothing to the revelation that tumbled over her.

Of course, Edward. It was all aimed at him. They had seen her help him, _defend_ him, even, knew that they were close (_or at least had been,_ she thought bitterly, but stuffed that thought away). She remembered what Edward had said about them trying to recruit him, and the drastic measures they were willing to take to get him, even if it meant make his life miserable. Why _wouldn't_ they resort to kidnapping? Her ransom would be his acceptance, plain and simple. If he did not comply, Winry would be sacrificed.

"Come on, get going," Envy snarled behind her, and Greed's large hands grabbed her arms, roughly hoisting her to the ground. He pointed her in a direction and said "Stay there a sec" before turning to check on something, but she wasn't complaining. Any time that Winry was given to just stand around and absorb what was going on was definitely good.

Beyond the sounds of Envy and Lust getting out of the van, Winry heard the vague sounds of cars a few streets over, a couple of distant shouts, the sound of a garage door slamming shut. The air didn't smell like that of the city, of exhaust, cigarette smoke, and trash, plus whatever delicious baking smells managed to waft over from the artsy shops a block or so from the school. It was a bit rougher, a bit less refined, like oil, dirt, and dust, but she couldn't figure out why.

Envy gave her a rough push, sending Winry stumbling forward. She let out a muffle yelp, trying to catch her balance with her hands bound, and nearly fell.

"Hey, watch it!" Greed barked, and for a second she thought he was talking to her, but then heard two bodies smack together, and Envy let out an angry yell.

"_The hell was that for_?" he demanded, and Winry felt a hand settle on her shoulder, Greed guiding her to...where ever it was they were going.

"For being an ass," he called over his shoulder, and she guessed that Greed had shouldered Envy aside for the way he was behaving.

Winry sighed to herself, wondering how on earth she was going to deal with a person like Greed. For the most, he didn't seem interested in the whole kidnapping business. He certainly wasn't _averse_ to it, as he had done his work with a smile, but he wasn't interested in the brutality that Lust and Envy displayed, placing her general well being above rank. It was touching, in a way, but being touched emotionally by her kidnapper wasn't going to get Winry rescued. It would have been so much easier if he was just a monster like the others, but he worked under this frustrating sort of code that she just couldn't figure out.

_But he's still a part of this gang, and directly involved in getting you in this situation Winry, don't forget that, don't **ever** forget that!_

He guided her inside, and Winry wrinkled her nose at the cloying scent of dust and motor oil.

"Oh, is that her? Mm, she smells good. Like apple and a bakery," a new voice asked, making Winry shy back. It was a man's voice, hanging around the higher range, and just the bright curiosity it had, reminded Winry perversely of a child.

"'Course it's her," Greed grunted, pushing Winry forward by her shoulders to get her moving again. "Who'd you _think_ we'd come back with, Gluttony?"

The new man gave a slight _humph,_ but turned his attention to Lust and Envy.

Winry strained her ears for anything that might help her get out, tried to make a gap between her blindfold and her face so she could see, anything, but she kept thinking that she was about as stuck as she possibly could be. She was blindfolded with her hands zip tied in some warehouse or garage or storage unit or something, with at least a handful of gang bangers roaming around keeping watch. Plus, like Envy had said, the chance that anyone had noticed she was gone wasn't the greatest at the moment. How was she supposed to get out?

"Hold on a sec," Greed grunted, then the sound of a door opened, and then she was guided in by his back on her shoulder. "Sit tight, 'kay? Soon enough we'll let you go, and everything will be _fine._"

"Hurry up, Greed! Making nice to her's not gonna get you anything," Envy snapped, making Winry jump. "We just _kidnapped_ her, remember? She's hardly gonna go out with you after this."

"Oh, well you never know," Greed muttered, but it seemed to be more sarcastic than anything.

"Hey, kid," he said, speaking to Winry now. He was still speaking quietly, not letting the others hear. To her surprise, he roughly undid the towel they had used as a gag, allowing her to speak.

"Uhm, yeah?"

"Keep your head down and stay smart," he said. "The less reason you give Envy a reason to mess you around, the less likely you are to have to go to the hospital afterwards. Got it?"

"Yes," she murmured, all breath having left her chest.

"Good."

Greed shut the door, making the darkness pressing against Winry's eyes even more complete. She took a breath and told herself not to be afraid (of the dark at least. Otherwise, she was terrified), and started thinking again.

Even if she couldn't make an escape plan, she could make things a little bit better for herself. Like maybe getting the towel blindfold off and snapping the zip tie around her wrists. She tried pushing the blindfold off with her shoulder, then had an idea. She hesitantly lowered herself to her knees, fervently hoping that there wasn't anything disgusting or sharp beneath her, and other than a little bit of grit under her knees, it was fine.

Winry brought her knee up to her face and tried pushing the blindfold off that way. She didn't manage to push it off over her head, but she did loosen it enough to slip down around her neck. She blinked and glanced around her new prison, thankful that a row of windows lined the wall to her right. They were out of her reach, unfortunately, but she was at least glad they provided enough light to let her see. It wouldn't last long, though, so she had to act fast if she wanted to have the zip tie off.

She adjusted her leg and managed to pull out the wrench, feeling a little bit more purposeful with it in her hand. Winry stood back up and began searching the space. She guessed that it was a rather small warehouse, the kind often used for storage. It was empty other than a desk and a metal cabinet. As she walked, she realized that the line of windows were actually a part of a giant door, but upon inspection she saw that the chain used to pull it open had been removed, and the power box to the side required a key to be used.

She growled in frustration, but kept herself from kicking the wall. Greed's words had reinforced the impression that Envy would ruthlessly tear her apart, just for something to do. If_ he,_ Envy's comrade, was warning her, then there were some serious problems with the teen. But then, she supposed that the group was hardly what anyone would have called tight knit, not missing an opportunity to belittle or threaten each other.

_That's good, I suppose. If all else fails, I could try turning them against each other,_ she thought, but the idea wasn't very promising.

She set her wrench on the top of the desk and continued looking, searching through the desk as best she could with her hands tied behind her back. The desk was a strange thing, made of wood except for the top, which was composed of metal that had been dented somewhere along the line. While she was running her hands over the front, one of her fingers snagged on an unexpected edge. She gasped and nearly knocked her wrench off the desk. She froze, making sure it would stay in place, then fervently began examining the throbbing finger. Thankfully, it wasn't bleeding, but it did give her an idea. Winry turned around and searched the desk for whatever had caught her finger.

With a barely suppressed shout of joy she saw a slightly jagged edge on the lip of the desk, pulled out of place from rust and normal wear and tear. She turned around and managed to hook the zip tie onto the section. Winry held her breath, and prayed this would work.

She tried yanking her hands towards her, but only succeeded in digging the zip tie ferociously into her wrists before the tie jolted free of the desk, making her arms smack into her back. Winry staggered forward, chewing curses to bits and glancing at the door, worried someone might walk in. She repositioned herself, tried again, and again, and then another time. She bit her lip and smothered a moan of frustration and pain, certain that sections of skin had been torn free from her wrists.

_Come **on,** Rockbell, you can do this! Granny would kick your ass if she knew you were chickening out of this._

Gritting her teeth, Winry struggled to catch the zip tie on the desk again, and the pulled and shimmied and stressed the zip tie as much as possible, until there was a gratifying _snap!_ and she was sent staggering forward. She gasped and flailed her arms as she nearly smashed her face into the cement floor, but then caught herself. She whirled around, barely feeling the lines of pain throbbing on her wrists, hardly able to believe that she had managed it. A laugh managed to escape her, making her slap her hands on her mouth and whirl to make sure no one had heard her.

She stood that way for a few moments, breath held as her heart roared in his ears, trying to hear if anyone was approaching the door. A few moments passed, and she relaxed.

The pain in her wrists snapped back, and she hissed, rubbing them and looking around for something else she could do. She bit her lip and picked up her wrench, and headed towards the metal cabinet.

Work was slow going as she investigated the cabinet, as Winry made sure to pause every few seconds to make sure no one was coming in. She had worked up the nerve to shake the cabinet once, and it sounded like there was something in there, and anything that might be stored in a metal cabinet like that was sure to be flammable.

The doors were locked, predictably, and Winry didn't doubt if the key had been removed from the room. She pursed her lips and ran her hands over the sides of the cabinet, hoping, _praying_ that there would be something she could undo to open it.

An angry shout and a loud clatter sounded from the next room over, making Winry jump and clang her wrench into the cabinet. She froze, praying no one would come in, especially not Envy...

Several moments crept past, and she dared to breathe again. A few more moments, are there was some more yelling, but it seemed to be the Ouroboroughs arguing with each other.

Winry returned to searching the cabinet, becoming frustrated with the fact that it seemed to be either one giant piece of metal, or several pieces soldered together from the inside. Other than the screws on the hinges in the front, there was nothing she could try to loosen to find whatever it was that was inside.

She dropped her wrench angrily, huffing out a sigh and storming away to find something else to do. She dropped down in the middle of the room, staring at her hands.

She was a _Rockbell,_ her hands were meant for nothing but _making_ things, giving people better lives. And yet she couldn't even help herself, get herself out of this nightmare. Had anyone even_noticed_ that she was gone yet? Probably not, the rest of her dorm mates were far too focused on enjoying their Friday night to care about the one that preferred to stay home and take care of chores and homework.

_I **really **don't belong here, _she thought, a terrible and heartbroken smile on her face. Tears filled her eyes and suddenly she was crying for all she was worth.

_What am you even doing in Central_? _You come here for what, some music that you didn't really care about? To run away from your problems instead of facing them like a big girl? Was it really worth it, to prove your independence to a grumpy bar keep and your dead grandmother, to show you could move to the city? No, it **wasn't** worth it, because everything has sucked so far. Your friends have been hurt and you've been hurt. Everything would be so much better if you had just **stayed in Resembool.**_

Because things had been _so _great there. Winry remembered lamenting that Harry wouldn't sell her alcohol because it was something that would dull the pain of being alone. She had been secluded and bitter, allowed to be pathetic and miserable because no one was there to call her out on it.

But here, in Central, she had made friends. Almost immediately, in fact, and there were frank and honest enough to care about how she acted.

The faces of Rose, and Al, and even those of Roy and Riza flashed into her head, how they had helped her right away. Even Edward had done all he could to support her, when he was willing to be kind. Because when he was good to her, Edward was _so good,_ it made her want to cry.

Thinking about crying now made her feel ashamed, because she was giving up, plus she hated crying. What she wanted wasn't to go back to Resembool, it was to go home, and right now, that was in Central, that was St. Bradley's.

Her breath caught as she scrubbed at her eyes, on the verge of turning into more sobs, but she held herself in check. She spent a few moments just breathing, trying to calm herself down, hoping she could think straight. Being helpless and full of self pity wasn't going to change the fact that she was _held hostage_ in some warehouse, nor was lamenting every sad and terrible aspect of her life over the last three months. Setting her teeth and figuring out how to get back to her friends was her way out, but only if she was gutsy and pulled together and every bit as crazy as the Rockbells were supposed to be.

The door knob suddenly rattled, and Winry gasped and barely managed to hide her hands behind her back before it opened, revealing Lust. She was holding a box of what looked like take out, and carelessly set it on the ground before Winry.

"Here," she sighed. "I hope you don't have any food allergies."

"No," Winry said sulkily, trying not to feel incredibly hungry at the scent of food. She wasn't sure what time it was, merely that the light coming through the windows were starting to fade, so it had probably been several hours since she had last eaten.

She was about to reach out and take the box, but then a thought hit her. She looked up at Lust, and took a gamble.

"How am I supposed to eat with my hands tied behind my back?" she asked, and Lust shrugged, turning on her heel.

"You're supposed to be a smart girl. You'll figure it out. You should be happy that we didn't tie your ankles back," she called over her shoulder, closing the door behind her. Winry swallowed, then tentatively reached out for the food. It wasn't anything special, just a sandwich from a mom and pop shop, but she gratefully dug in.

Once she was finished, Winry sighed and went to retrieve her wrench. She bent down to pick it up, then froze. Even in the lessening light, she could see a hole had formed in the bottom corner of the cabinet, probably from being knocked into something like a wall while being put into place. She gave a laugh that was half gasp, and wedged her wrench into the gap. Winry used it to widen the gap, which was slow, painful work.=. She could hardly see by the time she could fit her hand in, which was worrying, to say the least.

She held her breath and tried to clear the inside corner of the cabinet of webs with the wrench, then held it between two of her fingers. She stuck her hand in, hoping to find whatever it was inside. A plan had started to form while she was eating, a stupid, crazy, potentially lifesaving plan, and whatever flammable liquid was hiding in that cabinet was vital to it.

It was a tight fit, her skin being scraped back in a few places and making her grit her teeth, but she finally managed to get her hand in. Winry panted and tried to keep herself from screaming in pain and anxiety, and felt around for the container with the wrench. She desperately hoped that the container was on the bottom shelf, because otherwise she was back to the drawing board.

The wrench tapped against something, making her break into a shocked grin. It hadn't felt like the wall of the cabinet, and Winry worked her hand back out to widen the gap further. It was almost entirely dark in that corner of the room, now, but she worked by feel, utterly unfazed.

Winry put her hand back into the cabinet, and tried moving the container closer towards the hole. She grimaced, the metal cutting into her wrist as she whacked the container with the wrench, but finally, _finally,_ it was close enough for her to pull it closer. The bottle was small and round, but still too large for her to pull out as is. She pulled her hand back out and tried opening the gap even further so she could pull the bottle out.

While she worked, rain started up, the deluge that the skies had been promising all day finally being let loose. She sighed and shook her head, another complication if she was going to escape, but she had to focus. The rain would still be there, regardless of whether or not she got the damn bottle out of the cabinet. Finally she worked it out and she sighed, leaning back against the wall.

She examined it in the half light for a moment, then broke into a black smile. It was acetone, about half full and more than enough to make her incredibly nervous. Winry carefully set it down, then looked at her hand. A few places had begun to bleed slightly, so she pulled the blindfold from around her neck and wrapped up her wrist as well as possible.

Winry stood up and walked over to the desk. Her plan was basically to set the desk on fire and escape out the door when they came to investigate. Of course, she could very easily just end up killing herself from asphyxiation or burning to death, but Winry was forcing herself to focus on the positives. If she waited to think through her plan, then she was handing Envy, or any of the Ouroboroughs, really, even more time to do something terrible to her. No, Winry had to act now, or else not at all.

She started moving the desk closer to the door, picking up one side at a time and slowly walking it closer. She wished she could just push it, but that would be almost more difficult and _extremely _conspicuous, so she made do. By the time it was near enough to the door for her liking, her arms ached and her hands had lines pressed into them and she thought her heart was going to rip through her teeth.

"Alright, Winry," she mumbled to herself, "let's see what you can use to make a bad idea an even worse situation."

Winry knew that a few sparks would set the acetone on fire, so she searched for anything she could use. Anything electronic would work, as she could use the power source and a few fried wires to give the kick required, but the likelihood of finding so much as a run down battery-powered clock was unlikely.

_But then, so was finding a bottle half full of acetone,_ she thought, and smiled to herself again.

She riffled through the desk, searching every part of the desk drawers and as much of the floor she could. The floor was a fruitless search, but her second desperate go through of the desk turned up something she hadn't even dreamed of.

A match, small, the cardboard a little battered, but the tip utterly unharmed. Winry wanted to dance around and sing at the top of her lungs because at the moment, it felt like any and all of her questions had been obliterated about belonging in Central.

_This is it,_ she thought, biting her lips. The storage room was almost entirely dark now, the only light coming from a nearby street light, and even that was muted by the rain pouring down. It was just enough for her to move over to the bottle of acetone and pick it up, heart leaping into her throat.

Could she really do this? _Was_ she really going to do this, because at this point, Winry had been tossed into a world where reasonable coulds and shoulds were a strange, humorous memory.

"You bet your ass I am," she said, walking back towards the desk. Her loose fitting slip-on shoes made her stumble, and Winry looked down at them, wondering. They would likely fall off the moment she started running, but a little protection would be better than nothing, especially with the rain. Or, if anything, she could grab one and beat of any attackers with it, if worse came to worst. But if she was going to have to hit someone with something...

Winry nodded to herself and carefully placed her wrench in her skirt waistband. Another thought struck her, and she moved the desk a little bit closer to the wall. She checked the wall with the door, pressing her ear against it. Someone seemed to be talking, but she guessed that was just a television or radio somewhere nearby. Occasionally someone's voice would snap out, making her stomach lurch.

"Just remember, Winry, these people are psychopaths. _They might kill you_. Just make sure that if you're gonna get murdered by them, that you're on your feet and you're giving them hell back. Okay. Okay. Granny, I love you, but _please_ pray that I'm not going to see you soon," she tacked on because she could do with as many prayers as she could at the moment, then knocked loudly on the door.

The voices outside abruptly stopped. Winry dashed back to the desk before a rough "_The hell you want?!_" could make it past the door. She ran around it, and heaved it onto its side, making an unearthly crash. Shouts and swears were coming from the gang as she sucked in a breath and started pouring the acetone all over the wood of the desk, the floor, a path along the wall to the door.

On the other side of the door someone was shouting out curses and questions, wrestling with the door. She caught snatches of "_What the hell was that?!" _from Envy, and then a more shrill "_I don't know!_ I cleaned the place out, like you said!" from Gluttony, but she focused on grabbing the match, on not breathing in the fumes, on not turning herself into a fireball.

_Okay, only one shot at this,_ she thought as the door burst open and she struck the match on the cement floor, lighting it up.

"_What're you doing?!"_ Envy hissed at her, teeth bared. Gluttony, whom she saw was an incredibly short, fat man, began desperately tugging on his shoulder and blurting _"Envy, I don't like this smell, whatever she did we need to-"_

Winry dropped the match onto the desk, and it bloomed into a fiery, lethal flower. Envy jerked back and shoved Gluttony forward in one motion, utterly shocked by this development. Winry shoved herself forwards and away from the terrifying and extremely hot flames that were now licking up the wall of the room. She pulled out her wrench as she ran past Gluttony, who was shrieking for Lust to come do something, and barreled into Envy.

"Oh _no,_ not again you little-"

Winry spared any comments about how he was a monster, or maybe how she had a proper _name,_ and instead slammed him in the jaw with the wrench. He staggered back and she pushed past him, stumbling on his legs as he reeled.

Immediately Lust and Greed were in her path, both trying to figure out why smoke alarms were suddenly going off. Lust was shouting at Greed, screaming along the lines of "_what do you mean there isn't a damn sprinkler system!?" _over the smoke alarm as he shook his head, clearly trying to sort everything out. He saw Winry first and stared at her, raising a finger to point her out to Lust, but she sprinted past him, making sure to knock over chairs behind her.

Winry could see the door, a door that would lead out into the rain, to freedom, but the gang bangers were regrouping. The sound of Lust yelling and Gluttony screaming, in agony now, probably as the fire started to attack him as well, the smoke alarm ringing and Envy trying to climb over the chairs was disorienting, but it was the smell that kept her grounded. It was thick and disgusting and_didn't belong._ There was nothing about burning chemicals that had any proper place in the world, but it was strangely familiar and reminded her that this wasn't a nightmare, this was a terrible reality and she had to move or be killed.

Winry reached the door and scrabbled at the knob, trying to make her shaking fingers work. Adrenaline was coursing through her now, begging that she do something, climb the walls, escape the monsters behind her, escape the _fire_, turn to fight, turn to put it out, but she forced herself to think and open the door. A hand grabbed her arm and another grabbed her shirt, but she screamed and lashed out, jabbing out with the wrench and raking her nails down someone's face. Lust screamed in pain and Winry glanced back to see her clutching at her face, while Envy was hunched over, gasping for breath.

She turned back to the door and _finally _got it open, and began running. Bolting past the truck that had brought her to this hell and the various storage units around her, Winry took a corner and ran for all she was worth, not daring to look back at the inferno that she had made. She was simply glad to be free, if just for the moment.

* * *

><p><em>AN A lot of you guys commented about how you were expecting someone (namely Edward) to save Winry, and that always was so strange to me, because I never thought of someone finding Winry and saving her. It was always just her saving herself. I know this is stretching reality, to have Winry escape so quickly or in such a fantastic way, or even do it by herself with so little help. but hey, I feel like every writer gets to toy with the truth here or there, and I like the idea of her being able to do this for herself. She's entirely capable, and I adored how she started relying on herself to do things when things got messy in the mangaanime, rather than turning to everyone else. I've spent a lot of time on Winry with this story (too much, probably :'D), but we so rarely get to see her truly fight for something, to see her turn to herself and pull things together, and I just wanted to show case that._

_OKAY, JUST SO YOU ALL KNOW, I SPENT **AGES** TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW SHE WOULD LIGHT THAT DAMN FIRE WITHOUT BEING BLOWN UP OR TURNED INTO A HUMAN TORCH I JUST-_

_IT'S DIFFICULT, AND I AM SO DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER, YOU DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND. THE INITIAL IDEA WAS TO HAVE WINRY HIDE A LIGHTER IN HER SOCK, AND THEN SET GASOLINE THAT SHE HAD MANAGED TO PULL FROM A BROKEN DOWN TRUCK IN THE STORAGE ROOM WITH HER ON FIRE AND SKIP INTO THE RAINY SUNSET WITH AN INFERNO AT HER BACK. RIGHT NOW I AM JUST EXASPERATION AND **RAAAAAGE**._

_Carry On - FUN  
>Skyfall - Adele<br>The Paris Swing Box - Parov Stelar  
>Sentimientos - Andres Linetzky &amp; Ernesto Romeo<br>Etude Op. 10 No. 12 (Revolutionary) - Chopin_


	34. Coda

_AN Someday I will figure out how to update in a timely manner. This is not that day._

_I kind of want to apologize over the huuuuuuugeness of this chapter, but I still have yet to figure out where the actual girth comes from, because it seems pretty normal sized to me. Plus it just couldn't be broken up for reasons SO ENJOY_

_side note: i am just so damn clever with this chapter title, what are you even going to do with me ;)_

* * *

><p>Rain dripped into Winry's eyes, making it even harder for her to see. Her throat and lungs burned, and her whole body felt clumsy and listless, even with far too much adrenaline in her system. She gasped, dragging her hand across her mouth as she rounded a corner.<p>

One of her shoes swung off, leaving her to run the dark alley way partially barefoot. The grit and sludge under her feet didn't slow her in the slightest, even though images of broke bottles, rusted nails, and all sorts of things for her feet to snag on were jumping into her head. Winry pushed herself on, though, knowing that if she attempted to stop and try to find the shoe, she would collapse. Unadulterated fear was running rampant through her, though, every shred of anxiety and doubt and terror she had been pressing back while she had been held captive screaming to the surface and being her _run._

But it _hurt,_ the rocks digging through her sock, the rain beating at her face and making it difficult to see, her arms burning against her sides as they pumped back and forth. Her footsteps crashed through her entire being, making her feel like her legs would break with each one. Each exhale felt like it was physically pulling air from her lungs, each inhale useless and not delivering any new oxygen to her brain. She desperately wanted to give up, to quit and curl up into a ball and start sobbing, because this was so much worse than being locked up in a cage. Now she was an animal running for its life with little hope for survival.

_No, keep going! _she screamed at herself, tears springing into her eyes and getting lost in the down pour. _You want Envy to catch a hold of you? Who knows what he's going to do now you've set the warehouse on fire_!

Winry took a corner, arms swinging as she tried to maintain her balance. She could feel herself slowing down, could hear the sounds of her feet pounding and her lungs heaving and her voice whimpering bouncing off the walls around her.

Straining her eyes, Winry managed to pick out what looked like an actual road, and not just another intersecting alleyway. She gasped in relief, slowing even more as she neared it. She ran out into the open, glancing around for another direction to run. Winry blinked rain away from her eyes and threw her hands up, just barely preventing herself from slamming chest first into the side of a car.

With a gasp, a skid on her thankfully shoed foot, and a jarring impact to her hands, Winry spun, seeing stars from crashing to such an abrupt halt. The person inside the car yelled and slammed to a stop, which made an impressive shriek and jerk for such a slow speed. Winry hardly spared them a glance though, too busy straining for sounds of pursuit. There were distant car horns, the roar of blood in her ears, her pathetic breathing, but footsteps? Another engine blazing down the roar to find her? She wasn't sure.

Another muffled exclamation came from inside the car, a pick up, she realized, making Winry click back into reality. She dashed forward and hammered on the passenger door, praying that she hadn't leaped from the frying pan and into the fire. The window rolled down, agonizingly slow, but she barely waited for a gap the size of her fingers to appear before blurting _"HeycanIgetaridewithyou?"_

The window rolled down completely, knocking the remaining wind from her lungs. Sitting in the truck cab and looking extremely alarmed was Edward, golden eyes wide as he strained against his seat belt.

_"Winry?!"_ he gasped, eyes raking over her horrendous appearance. Coherent words seemed to have escaped him as he stared at her, shaking his head slightly and mouthing something.

"_Edward_," she practically sobbed, "_please_, can I...can I get a...ride?" Edward blinked a couple of times and, looking a little stunned, nodded. The lock on the door clicked open, and she closed her eyes in utter relief a moment before flinging it open.

"What're you _doing_ out there, why're you running?" he asked, still staring at her.

"Ed, please, just...just _drive_!"

"Winry, where are your shoes?" he demanded, and she looked down at her pale, grime spattered feet in the fading lights of the cab. Her other shoe apparently had come off somewhere between bouncing off the side of the truck and getting in. She hadn't even noticed.

"Edward," she said desperately, looking him in the eye and _praying_ he would understand her need without further questions, "_Please,_ just _go."_

Above the rain, Winry heard a horribly familiar shout and stiffened. Edward's eyes slid past her. She guessed he was looking at the mouth of the alley she had just come from, weighing what she had potentially been through. He nodded grimly and put the car in drive.

They rode in silence for a while, and as she fought for her breath to come back, Winry caught the awkward tension in the air. The last time she had been alone with Edward, they had torn each other apart.

With a start, Winry realized that she was soaking wet with absolutely nothing to protect the leather seat beneath her.

"Oh my gosh, I'm getting your car all wet," she exclaimed, jerking herself off the seat a little and began looking around for something to wipe up the water with.

"It's fine," he said shortly, and the hard tone of his voice cut into Winry. She shook her head, determined not to sink even further into his bad books.

"_Winry," _he said firmly, hand on her arm, "it's fine."

She gave a shaky nod and settled back into her seat, watching him glance at her and flick on the heater.

"What're...what're you doing out here?" she asked, the terror of the situation slowly catching back up to her. The shock of seeing Edward was melting away, making her breath speed up again.

"Nothing. Just driving," he said, voice flat and not especially open for questions as he paused at a stoplight. "What were _you_ doing out there?" he asked slowly, and Winry felt a tear slide down her cheek before she was sobbing completely.

Edward turned towards her, alarmed and giving a hurried _'Ohshit'_ before taking hold of her shoulder.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, taking his hands off the wheel, even though the light had just turned green. He checked the road behind them, which was blessedly clear, and then put the car in park. Winry shook her head, thinking that yet _again_ she was falling apart in front of Edward.

At least she had a valid reason, this time.

"I-I—my feet hurt," she managed to get out, and realized that was the only injury she'd received from the Ouroboroughs, other than a few incidental bruises.

"Why were you out there?" Edward repeated, voice firm. He sensed that they were on the brink of some big, but was doing his best to her ease into the descent. Winry held her breath in an attempt to pull herself together, then realized it might be a while before she stopped crying.

"I don't know w-why, it all happened so-so fast, I just—"

"_Winry."_

"They...they took me. The O-Ouroboroughs, they just appeared, and I—"

"_They kidnapped you?_" Edward practically shouted, and she jumped, looking at him for a moment before giving a slow nod. She wiped her face with a fist, watching Edward start to growl something out. He cut himself off, began again, then turned away, glaring out the wind shield. His automail hand was clenched around the steering wheel, probably tight enough to leave dents. He bit his thumbnail, and Winry had the feeling he was trying very, very hard not to run out and start hunting the gangsters down.

"Go on," he grunted after a moment, and she cleared her throat, quietly recounting how Envy had appeared at her door, and then how Greed had climbed through her window.

"Did they do anything to you?" he asked, voice quiet. It sounded like every part of his being was pressing against the question, as if grinding it into nonexistence would make her answer more tolerable. Winry looked at him, eyes catching on the cords standing out in his neck. The rain kept falling, and the windshield wipers sighed back and forth, waiting for her to answer. She looked out at the still empty intersection, and noticed that the light had changed.

Winry swallowed, feeling sick at the thought of what could have happened to her.

"N-no," she began, hiccupping slightly. "Well, they pushed me around a little, and tied me up—"

"_They tied you up!?"_

_"_—so I couldn't get away, but other than that, no. The woman, Lust, she watched over, uhm, made sure I was okay. She pulled out a knife when she told Envy not to touch me, but I think it was more a warning than a threat."

"For you or for him?" Edward asked, a disgusted smile curling his lips. He pressed his knuckles into his forehead, closing his eyes.

"I don't know," she whispered. She had thought it had been aimed at Envy, but it just as easily could have been a silent message to her as well. She smudged away the tears that had formed, wishing that she would just _stop crying_ for three seconds so she could explain herself properly.

"Winry?" he asked her suddenly, turning to fix her with his intense stare "If they didn't do anything to you, why do you smell like smoke?"

Winry's eyes widened as she realized the insinuation he was making, then felt the urge to vomit.

"Because I set part of the warehouse on fire so I could get away," she said, watching him blink, utterly shocked. "They put me in this sort of big storage room, and I knew I had to get out of there." Winry took a breath, looked at the cab roof, wiped her eyes. She could tell he was looking at her wrists, catching the red, angry skin where the zip ties had been.

"Once I got my wrists free, I searched this storage cabinet that held all these flammable liquids, and there was a hole rusted through the back, and I used one of my wrenches to widen it, and I grabbed some acetone, and I…I dunno, I turned over a desk to get their attention, and when Envy opened the door to check out the noise, I—I set it on fire."

She looked at him helplessly, wondering how on earth she had ended up performing a terrifying and daring escape from a gang of psychopaths. The tears that had been a delicate stream turned into a relentless onslaught, leaving her breathless.

"And then you ran?" he asked. He sounded so gentle, even more so than when he had been comforting her over her parents. Winry wasn't sure if it was just hysteria or wishful thinking, but she felt like something about him had changed, because he felt softer under the anger and fear. Some of his walls had been torn down, leaving him completely bare for the world to see.

"And then I ran," she agreed, and he pressed his hand against his eyes. Edward reached back behind her seat, grabbing something. Next thing Winry knew, a thick blanket had dropped onto her lap.

"Here. Wrap yourself up," he said curtly, turning to face the road again. He finally pulled away from the stoplight, frowning at the world through the windshield.

Winry swallowed down her tears again, telling herself that she couldn't keep sniveling, not like this, not in from of him. She spread the blanket over herself, wondering at how much her luck had changed in just a few hours. She had gone from being kidnapped to escaping to running into practically the only person she felt alright seeing at the moment. Because, as stupid as it was, Winry felt _safe_ with Edward, no matter what their history had been.

They were quiet for a few moments, the sound of the rain and the engine the only thing filling the air. Winry wiped the last remnants of tears from her face, glanced out her window before remembering that she had absolutely no idea where she was.

"Where…uhm, where are we going?" she asked, hating how incredibly timid she sounded. She sat on her hands, waiting for his answer. She still hadn't buckled yet, but honestly, she didn't really have time to worry about proper car safety when she had just dodged a long term abduction.

"To the store," Edward said shortly. She pressed her lips together again, found the energy to roll her eyes.

"But it's, like, ten at night."

"That, Winry, is why we have the glory of a supercenter. Open all hours."

She gave a short '_humph'_ and settled back against the seat, thankful that he willingly slid into their old habit of bickering with each other. Any attempts at the smothering, fawning sort of comfort would have made Winry feel worse, because she just wanted to feel _normal, _to forget what she was a victim of kidnapping.

They fell back into silence as Edward skirted Central, heading into a district that was more housing and casual shopping centers than rundown storage units. Occasionally he would ask her how she was doing, if she were too hot, too cold, if she was hungry, and Winry would tell him that she was _fine_, she really didn't need anything. Edward nodded, looking distracted every time she answered, and Winry wondered what was going through his head. She didn't think he was dwelling on the events of her kidnap specifically, but Winry had no doubt that it was on his mind. Knowing Edward, he was thrashing out every conceivable detail he could come up with to explain, distract her from, and deal with the situation.

Edward pulled into a parking lot, one that was mostly empty but well lit. _Open all day!_ proclaimed the sign, making Edward smirk at her. Winry gave an exasperated sigh, hiding her own smile as he parked at the front of the lot.

"What's your shoe size?"

"What?"

"What's your shoe size?" he repeated, scowling. Winry was a little confused as to why this mattered, but she answered. He nodded, grunted out an okay, then started to get out.

"Wait, where are you going?" Winry demanded, panic creeping into her voice. If he left, Winry was certain that Envy or Greed or _somebody _would leap out at her.

"I'm going inside to get you some shoes so we can get you something that isn't soaked and filthy," he said flatly, as if it were obvious. "They don't let shoeless vagabonds inside civilized establishments, you know that, right?"

Winry reluctantly nodded, a little too nervous to respond to his teasing. Edward stepped out of the cab and zipped up his coat against the rain, which had lightened but not abated.

"Feel free to change the station or whatever," he told her, looking supremely uncomfortable as he put his hands in his pockets. "I know I always like listening to music when I'm upset."

Edward shifted a little, looking a little reluctant to leave, even with rain splattering onto his back and the inside of his truck. If Winry had to guess, she would have said that Edward didn't want to leave her alone, not after the nightmare she had just been through. She gave him a weak, encouraging smile, assuring him that she would be fine the few minutes he would be gone.

Edward nodded again and said "Lock the car," before closing the door. He walked off, shoulders hunching against the rain.

Winry obediently clicked the lock button, feeling a little bit more confident as the loud, decisive click bounced around the cab. She turned on the radio and flicked through the stations, until a slightly staticky rendition of '_Hello, Dolly!'_ came on. She sighed, relaxing into her blanket as Louis Armstrong crooned through the speakers.

With that deep, powerful voice filling the cab, Winry felt considerably better. She smiled, leaning back against the seat, pulling up her legs. The heater was still on, struggling to dry her off, but she felt far more comfortable than she had for most of the day.

Winry wasn't sure if it was because she was exhausted, emotionally drained, or probably still in shock, but she didn't really feel anything amiss at waiting in the cab of Edward Elric's car, waiting for him to get her some shoes. Hours before, he had been cold and almost hostile to her, shunning her for some unfathomable reason, but now…

Well, he wasn't exactly a bundle of warm compassion, but she could tell that he really did care about her (granted, she found it a little difficult for someone to have reached a point where Edward felt nothing over them being abducted by ruthless gangsters). She thought about him, standing there just a few feet away and not wanting to leave her alone with her horror. Edward had looked exceptionally uncomfortable, trying to settle into whatever it was the situation called of him, but not like he didn't want to be there. Though she had to admit his discomfort had most likely come from the fact that he had no idea about the protocol for comforting a girl he had remorselessly crushed the heart of.

_Much less an escaped kidnapee, _Winry thought, a cracked smile quirking her lips. She blinked and clenched her teeth at the reality of the situation, and buried her face in the blanket. She wished whole thing didn't scare the absolute hell out of her.

Winry leaned her head back against the seat, sighing to herself. She glanced at her feet, which were shockingly pale in the dark, the bits of dirt and grime standing out. She looked through the car for napkins or something to clean up with, but it was empty. Now that she noticed it, the entire car was spotless. No crumpled straw wrappers, no mint container, no water bottles perched in the drink holders. The car even _smelled_ new, which she had hardly noticed with her inability to breathe through her nose due to excessive snot. She closed her eyes again, heaving the biggest sigh so far.

_Great job, Winry. A brand new car, and you got all sorts of water and crap on the seats. It's probably Edward's birthday present, and now he has to clean it._

Winry snapped her eyes open, sitting up straight.

Probably Edward's _birthday_ present?

Winry bit her lips to keep from spitting out curses. Tomorrow was Edward's birthday. She had made him a damn _pie,_ but between being kidnapped and escaping, she had understandably forgotten.

A brief worry went through her head as she wondered what had happened to the pie, but then she told herself to be realistic. There was no way Greed or Envy had paused in their kidnapping to deface it.

What she _really_ should have been worrying about was the state of her room. She hoped Greed had closed the window to keep from drawing attention to her absence, else a good portion of the carpet and some of her possessions would be absolutely _drenched. _Winry wasn't overly concerned about her roommates and their worry over her (a fairly bizarre thought, Winry had to admit. But now that she was safe, she didn't need the police swarming everywhere and causing undo alarm). They had all planned to spend the weekend with their families, rather than spend the weekend working on school work, like her.

But still the pie stuck in her head. Moreover, what she was going to do for Edward's birthday. She glanced at the clock, thinking fast. It was nearly half past ten, and by the time Edward had brought her the shoes, taken her inside so she could attire herself properly, and then come back out, it would nearly be midnight. At this point, Winry had the feeling that if she asked for something, Edward would more or less give it to her. So if she asked…

A knock on her window made Winry nearly jump out of her skin and scramble back, immediately thinking of Greed and Envy at her dorm. Instead it was Edward, looking a little impatient as he tugged his hood up a little higher.

"Come on," he said, and she shakily unlocked the door.

"Sorry," she mumbled, dropping her eyes to the plastic bag he had in his hand. It looked like he had bought a towel as well as a pair of shoes, which made a rush of warmth go through her chest.

"It's fine," he said, and she glanced up, knowing that under any other circumstance he would have griped at her a little bit more. Edward held his tongue though, clearly bothered by her reaction.

"Hurry up, I'm getting soaked out here." His tone was a little lighter, and he smiled at her, proffering the bag.

Winry hurriedly grabbed the shoes out of the top, yanked off the ties and slipped them on. They were some sort of plastic, more like water shoes than anything, but they fit and were comfortable. Winry couldn't help but feel an extra rush of fondness towards them, because honestly, it was the first thing he had ever bought for her. She bit her lip and told that stupid, sentimental part of her to shut up, because Edward had made it very clear that he was uninterested in anything _more,_ and to wish for such was just begging for more heartache.

She turned off the car and handing over the keys, prolonging the moment before she got back into the rain. Edward dropped them into his pocket, then extend his hand again. Winry looked at it in confusion a second, wondering what it was he wanted her to give him, then blinked in understanding.

Feeling a little shy, Winry gave him her hand, and slid out of the cab. She closed the door behind her, shivering as the rain bounced off her skin once again. Edward locked the truck, then looked at her.

"Ready?" he asked, and Winry nodded, giving him a quick smile.

"Okay, _go!_" he said, and they both began running, heads ducked against the rain. Winry felt a laugh bubbling up out of her chest as her legs pumped and her arms flailed. The plastic bag Edward had on his arm swung around wildly as they sprinted for cover.

By the time they reached the shelter of the automatic doors, they were both breathless and giggling, probably cracking from the stress of the situation. Winry panted, looking at Edward and wishing that she could say something, anything.

She wanted to apologize for the horrible things she had said to him the last time they had spoken, and for screaming at him when she really should have been trying to understand what the hell was going on with him. She wanted to tell him that she had missed talking with him, or hearing his quiet, sarcastic remarks on something Roy or Havoc or someone made, because they were hilarious and they seemed to be just for her ears. She wanted to tell him that she was so, so thankful that he had been there tonight, that he had let her in and not just dropped her off at her dorm and informed the authorities of what had happened to her, but instead stuck with her, trying to make her feel better. She wanted to say that she kind of loved him, even when he was yelling or nervous or stubborn or had rain running down his face and making his hair clump together around his face. Because even when Winry didn't especially _like_ him, she knew that Edward truly was trying, and he just needed some more help in certain areas than other people did.

But then something closed off in Edward's face and he was pulling himself back up into the quiet, tense, and concerned person from before. He gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and nodded at the doors. Winry nodded, understanding that the moment had passed.

"Come on, let's find you something dry to wear."

The lights in the store were stunningly bright, casting her appearance in high relief. Thankfully for Winry there weren't too many people roaming the store, due to the late hour. The two of them headed back towards the women's clothing section, Winry immediately deciding that she _really_ didn't care about being fashionable at the moment, simply warm. Ignoring the prolonged look she received from an older woman rifling through the jeans, Winry grabbed a pair of sweats and long sleeved t-shirts. She ordered Edward away with a meaningful_"All_ of my clothes are _soaking wet,_ Edward," then headed back towards the undergarments section. When she was finished, Winry found Edward in the book section by the cash registers.

"Ready?" he asked, and she nodded. They walked towards the self checkout, and Edward tactfully examined the gum and magazines while Winry scanned her items and packed them into bags. Winry patted her pockets, searching for her wallet.

"Oh," she said, realizing that it was still back in her dorm where she had left it. Wordlessly Edward pulled out his wallet and paid the machine, not looking at her as he collected his change.

"Uhm, thanks," Winry mumbled, picking up her bag. "Once we get back to St. Bradley's, I'll pay you back." He gave her a half smile, shaking his head.

"Winry, you really don't need to do that."

"But you've already—"

"Winry, _really_. It's not like I don't have the cash."

She blinked at him, then gave a nod. He walked with her to the bathroom and handed over the bag with the towel before sitting down on one of the benches by the drinking fountain.

Winry walked into the bathroom, trying not to think about the trail of water droplets she was leaving on the tile behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror and nearly groaned. A tired looking employee stepped out of a stall and glanced her over, eyebrows raised.

"It bad out there?" she asked, and Winry gave a wry laugh.

"Much worse," she said, then headed towards the handicap stall.

As Winry stripped down and began drying herself off with the towel, she couldn't help but think about how grateful she was for Edward's foresight. Simply changing into something dry wouldn't have been enough to make her feel better, not with the memory of her clothes clinging to her and her damp hair slapping against her back.

Winry draped the towel over the coat hook as she got dressed, relieved to have something dry and moderately warm against her skin. She practically sighed with comfort when she tugged the sweats on, not having realized just how cold her legs had been in the skirt of her school uniform.

Winry made quick work of wringing out her wet clothes and folding them and dumping them in a bag, along with the towel. She exited the stall and returned to the sinks, scowling as she ran her fingers through her hair. There wasn't much she could do to fix it, so she simply retied it and headed back out. When Edward saw her, he gave a small snort and rolled his eyes.

"What?" she demanded, glancing down at herself. He was slouched on the bench, more of his body parallel to the ground than perpendicular to it.

"Even after having to put your brain in overdrive to work out how to survive and then escape the last couple of days, you're _still_ pulling your hair up in that stupid way."

Winry looked at him a second in utter disbelief before snapping her foot into his shin. Edward swore and jerked up right, scowling at her.

"Way to make a girl feel better, Edward," she said, but she relished the normalcy.

Edward stood up and put his hands in his pockets, nodding towards the door.

"So, uhm, you all set?"

"Yup," she said, turning with him to leave. She zipped up her new sweatshirt when they reached the door, grimacing as she looked at the darkness outside. She had quite enjoyed not having to worry about water slamming into her skin, drying to smother her. Plus, just looking at the rain made her feel anxious, the sensation of gasping and clawing her way forward rising up in her chest again.

Winry had a feeling that it would take a while before she didn't feel a thrill of fear up her spine at rainstorms.

She glanced at Edward, trying not to show how anxious she felt. He gave her a half smile and held out his hand, almost like a question. Winry took it hesitantly, unable to shake the worry that it might disappear the second before she wrapped her hand around it.

He squeezed her hand, then pulled on his hood.

The two of them dashed into the rain, hands clamped down on the tops of their hoods to keep them from flying back. They took shelter behind Edward's truck as he scrambled for the remote. Winry climbed in the moment it was unlocked, while he raced around the side.

"Okay," Edward panted, slamming the door shut, "it's official. I _hate_ being out in rainstorms."

"Me too," Winry laughed, leaning her head against the headrest. They sat there a moment, trying to catch their breath and soaking up the quiet. Winry glanced over at Edward, and realized for the first time that he wasn't wearing his gloves. She frowned, shifting so she could face him properly.

"What?" he asked, noticing her move.

"Nothing, I just…your gloves. You're not wearing them."

"Nope," he said, resting an elbow on his door.

"That's…that's kind of big, right? I mean, when was the last time you just walked out in public with your automail showing?"

"A while," he said, and even though she could hear the walls slowly rising around him, she kept pushing. Winry understood that this was probably the last time she would be able to ask Edward anything, and she wanted to make sure that she made use of at least some of it. She opened her mouth to push the subject, but another thought hit her.

"Why…why were you out here tonight, Edward?"

He looked at her as if surprised by the question, then shrugged, looking back at the windshield.

"I was pissed, and I didn't want to stay at Hohenheim's place with Al, and I didn't wanna go back to St. Bradley's, so I…took a drive."

"Whose car is this?" she asked, glancing around. He cracked a smile, glancing at her.

"I didn't hotwire it, if that's what you're asking."

"Of _course_ not, idiot," she grumbled, smacking him in the arm and then wincing as her fingers hit his automail. He laughed at her, while she cradled her throbbing fingers, hissing a few curses at him.

"That's what you get for being violent," he said, making her roll her eyes.

_Of all people, he tells me this._

"Anyways, the car. Where'd you get it?"

"It was a gift," he said, turning away from her again. She raised an eyebrow, though she knew he cuoldn't see it in the darkened cab. She guessed it was a gift from his father for Edward's seventeenth birthday, but he didn't want to acknowledge his father in any way.

"Okay. But, Ed, you were out in the middle of nowhere. What brought you there?

"Stubborn anger. I had an argument and I…"

He paused, and Winry wondered if he would continue. She waited as he took a breath, then started the car.

"It's freezing in here," he said, flicking the temperature knob into the red. He pulled on his seatbelt and pulled out of the parking lot. Winry suppressed another sigh and buckled up as well, watching the rain smear across her window.

"You wanna head back to the school?" he asked, and Winry looked at him, surprised.

"Is that…really a question?"

"Uhm, yeah? It's your show right now, Rockbell."

Winry blinked, looked out the windshield. Of course she didn't really want to go back to school, not when she was wrapped up so nicely in a world that focused on getting answers out of Edward and keeping her damp hair off her neck, instead of calling the police and dealing with the reality of the whole event. Winry much preferred the world where everything was okay, in just about every sense of the word.

Plus she had a plan to enact, and she would jump out the window before she let herself muck up this golden opportunity.

"Well, then, no, I don't really wanna go back to the school. Honestly…I'm kind of hungry right now."

"Alright. What do you want?" Winry could tell from the way his voice hardened, he was thinking about her held captive by the Ouroboroughs. More specifically, whether or not they had fed her. Thankfully, he refrained from mentioning it.

"How about pie?"

"_Pie?_" Edward asked, turning to stare at her. "It's almost midnight and you want _pie_?"

"It's my show," she reminded him, and Edward threw up his hands in mock exasperation.

"Fine, fine, we'll get the girl a piece of pie. You know, there's really only fast food places open right now, right?"

"That and supermarkets," Winry said under her breath, making him smirk at her.

"…You don't care if you machine dry your uniform, right?"

"No…?"

"Okay. Good, then."

Winry stared at him, wondering if she should comment as he made an immediate left turn. Then she decided that it would be best to keep her mouth shut.

They didn't speak as they drove, instead listening to the music and soft commercials of the radio. Winry watched the blurry yellow lights outside of the cab whiz by, listening to a woman croon about small hotels and hiding away together.

Finally, Edward pulled up into a parking lot to a Laundromat. Winry frowned at the faded sign, then gave him a look.

"What?" he asked, turning off the truck and climbing out. Winry shook her head, then hopped out after him. She hurried towards the entrance of the Laundromat, wanting to stay as dry as possible.

The place wasn't very impressive, she decided after about five seconds. The place was a little dingy, but she didn't know if that was because of the lighting or simply the age of everything. Washers and dryers lined the walls, and a couple counters for people to fold their clothes on were scattered here or there, but mostly it was just worn tile and faded paint.

"So…what now?" she asked. Edward rolled his eyes, then pointed at a dryer.

"You dry your clothes, genius." Winry stuck her tongue out at him, loaded up a machine. Edward paid and started it, making it whine and rumble.

"Okaaaaay, _now_ what?"

Edward tossed a smirk at her over his shoulder, and walked to a small inlet at the back of the building. It ended in a door that was clearly marked for employees, but he didn't seem to notice. Winry considered saying something as she watched him, but thought better of it. He had had enough opportunities to be smart with her, and she didn't want to off her him another when he so clearly seemed to know what he was doing. That didn't stop her from being utterly bemused as he picked a small potted plant from the edge of a counter, revealing a key.

He gave her a grin as he unlocked the door, and entered. Winry followed after him, unable to stop staring.

Behind the Laundromat was the lovechild of a coffee shop and a club. It was small, with just enough room for a bar and a couple of tables decked out with chairs. The furniture was largely black, standing out shockingly against the white tile floor. It was extremely different from the tile of the Laundromat, glossy and looking…_proud,_ if anything. The counter was made of light polished granite, which held a chalkboard stating the menu.

_'Whatever the cook wants_' was written in pink chalk, with the price of '_Depends on how much I like you'_ in white. A man was standing behind the bar, flipping through a newspaper. He was tall and muscular, with neatly brushed blond hair and a mustache to match.

"Look who decided to drop by," he said, raising an eyebrow at Edward. Behind his glasses, his eyes seemed to be smiling, despite his gruff tone. He looked at Winry and gave her a nod, before turning back to Edward.

"Hey, just because some of us think spending every night in some secret coffeehouse is a good use of time, doesn't mean we all do," he retorted, walking up to the counter. Winry followed after, coming to stop beside a small radio. Jazz music rolled out of its speakers, soft but upbeat. The man shrugged, looked back at his newspaper.

"Heinkel, this is Winry Rockbell, one of my classmates. Winry, this is Heinkel," Edward said, gesturing at them respectively. Heinkel nodded at her again and extended a hand that was twice the size of hers. She shook it and gave a shy nod, not sure what to make of him yet.

"You've got a firm handshake," he said, looking a little surprised. "That's good, makes a strong impression. You may look like a good wind could knock you over, but you're probably the one usually wearing the boots in the room."

Winry gave a smile, and glanced at Edward, unsure if it was a compliment. Edward just gave a small smile and shrugged. He seemed more at ease there in the secret coffee house than she had ever seen him. He slid into a bar stool, gesturing for her to do the same.

"Seriously, though," Heinkel said, folding his newspaper, "I haven't seen you in months. What happened?"

"School, mostly. And Al kind of freaked out on me, so I had to toe the line if I wanted a moment's rest," Edward sighed, resting his elbow on the counter.

"Yeah? That kid's got his heart in the right place, though. Can't blame him for worryin' over a nightmare like you. You want a hot chocolate or something?"

Winry jumped, realizing a beat too late that he was addressing her. She glanced at Edward, wondering if Heinkel's abrupt manner was typical or not.

"Uh-uhm, yeah, thanks," she mumbled, wishing fervently that she hadn't been so damnably rattled from her recent kidnapping. Not that it was surprising to her, simply annoying. She would like to be able to speak to someone without such a thrill of anxiety in her stomach.

Heinkel strode away behind the bar, disappearing into a small swinging door she hadn't noticed before.

"Edward, _what is this place?"_ she demanded, turning on her stool to face him.

"It's a coffee house. See, Heinkel's one of the few legitimately enjoyable members of our social class, and he—"

"Wait, you mean that he's rich? Like, _millionaire_ rich?" Winry asked, staring at him.

"Not quite, but pretty damn close. He's old money, so while it's not quite fill-a-swimming-pool-with-gold-coins rich, it's _important _rich. His brother's the big family star, though, went off to become the CEO of some important company that buys and sells off other companies for ridiculously jacked up rates, so Heinkel could focus on what he enjoys."

"And that's making really classy coffee huts in the back of really shady Laundromats?"

"Making the unexpected," Edward said simply. Heinkel marched back into view, wielding two mugs of hot chocolate and a can of whipped cream.

"So, I know the Elric brat likes a crap ton of whipped cream, but what about you, missy?"

"Oh, uhm, I'd like some, please." Heinkel nodded and expertly whirled the can around the inside of their mugs, making perfect towers of whipped cream on top of their hot chocolate.

"So, I heard you marveling at my hobby a few moments ago," Heinkel said, making Winry jump.

"Yeah. This place, it's not…like anything else I've ever seen," she finished, feeling a little helpless when faced with the oddity that was the coffee shop. He gave her a satisfied smile and nodded.

"For that, missy, your hot chocolate's free. That's exactly what I was aiming for when I made this place. When I make any of 'em, really. I want them to be _different, _unexpected and something special. I don't want people to say 'Oh, the biscotti's great, but it looks like any other coffee shop downtown', it's got to _pop."_

"Wait, you mean there's _more _places like this around town?" she asked in disbelief. "Like, there are bunches of unexpected eateries?"

"Not _bunches_," Heinkel said, trying not to smile, "but something like that. My brother buys companies and breaks them apart and sells the pieces, but I buy shops and make them something more."

"And how do you keep people from noticing there are secret businesses back there?" Winry asked, leaning in.

"I hire fellow insomniacs," he said simply, shrugging. "My brother stock piles a list, you know, people who apply but don't quite make the cut for his company, he shuffles them on to me. It's just helping them out, 'cause I know it's a nightmare having to get up when you just barely managed to get a few minutes of sleep."

"That and he likes keeping the mystery of an awesome place with weird ass hours," Edward said, stirring in his whipped cream.

"Look, you're not quite in the position to go criticizing me, not when you've been getting half priced stuff from here for ages."

"Yeah, yeah," Edward said, waving a hand. Again Winry had the impression of Edward being far more relaxed here, like he didn't feel the need to hide parts of him away from Heinkel, like he did with everyone else. She liked seeing him simply be Edward for once.

"How did you even find this place?" Winry asked, taking a sip of hot chocolate, which sent a thrill of warmth to her toes.

"I was at—what was it, a fundraiser dinner thing? Yeah, that was it—and Heinkel here saw me bored out of my skull, so he dropped me this note." Edward broke off, laughing at the memory.

"He laughs now, but at the time, he thought it was cool," Heinkel said, rolling his eyes.

"Mm, a grown man giving a teenager a note that says 'Go by this sketch ass Laundromat late at night and look under the flower pot by the employee door', mm-hm, totally cool."

"You were impressed, don't kid yourself," the man muttered, mustache bristling.

"I was, like, one of the first few people that was let in on the secret," Edward continued, still chuckling. "He'd just opened it, wanted to know if the place would really work. He tried out all of his baking stuff here first, to make sure it was all good enough to be passed on everywhere else, and I would eat and we'd talk. And that's it."

"It wasn't _quite_ as boring as he makes it sound, but that's about it," Heinkel agreed, making Winry laugh.

"Yeah, I spent most of my time here my freshmen year. About two nights a week I'd drop by, and I would leave without wanting to break a wall or something."

"Probably because he knew I was one of the few people willing to kick his ass _and_ make him pay for the wall if he had a tantrum."

"Good," Winry laughed, "he needs more of those."

Heinkel clapped his hands, making Winry jump and cutting off Edward's protests.

"So, you guys just wanna fill yourselves up on chocolate, or you want something to go with it?"

"Do you sell pie?" Winry asked, making him laugh.

"Do I sell pie? 'Course, missy, what sort of coffee shop would this be otherwise? There's chess, strawberry rhubarb, and apple blackberry pie, all made within the last day."

Winry ordered a slice of chess pie, while Edward went with the apple blackberry. Heinkel nodded and ducked into the back again, leaving them alone.

"Why am I hardly surprised that you know about places like this?" Winry asked, and he shrugged.

"Because I would hardly live up to my title as a man of mystery if I didn't have at least one good unknown thing about me," he said, barely missing a beat. She gave a _"Hardly,"_ before smacking his shoulder. Edward grinned at her again, and the tension that she had felt back at the supermarket had completely vanished. Whatever walls had been lingering in Edward's eyes had vanished now, leaving them to be just two people.

"So," Heinkel said, coming back with the pie, "what brings you to my doorstep? 'Cause it's gotta be something to break the Great Absence of Edward Elric, _especially_ if he goes and brings someone new with him."

Winry blinked and looked at him, feeling her cheeks warm. Edward waved it off, but she could tell he felt a little embarrassed as well.

"She just hasn't had the greatest night," he explained, and Heinkel nodded.

"Yeah, I guessed that. I could smell the anxiety on you from across the room," he said, sliding their pie towards them, and then dropping a fork down beside them.

"It's not like you looked like you were falling apart at the seams or anything," he said quickly, catching sight of Winry's alarmed look, "it's just that I've got a sort of, eh, sixth sense about this sort of thing. I can just tell when people are worried or upset. Nice, sometimes, uncomfortable others, but just I thing I have."

"Yeah, tonight was…not my best. Hopefully I won't have to ever go through it again," she said, trying to make herself laugh, but failing.

"It won't," Edward said. The flat, factual nature of his voice caught her by surprise. Winry looked down at her pie, wondering if he was making her a promise.

Just then, Edward's phone went off. He slid out of his stool and sighed when he saw the caller ID.

"_Holy hell_ Izumi—you know, it's rude to call so late…yes, I _know_ what tomorrow is, but that's not for another fifteen minutes," he grumbled, though Winry could see something warm in his eyes at the call. He waved at Winry to excuse himself, and walked over to the other side of the coffee shop, listening to his martial arts teacher speak.

Winry took a quick bite of her pie to prolong the moment when she would have to start speaking with Heinkel. He was certainly likeable in the honest, gruff sort of way people were back in Resembool, but she couldn't shake the knowledge that he _wasn't_ a normal person, he was part of the socially elite. She was convinced that she had to act a certain way to impress him, even though he seemed utterly laid back about everything.

"So, Edward said that you two were school mates, that right?"

"Yes," she said. "He's, well, he started out as my piano teacher."

"Yeah, the kid's got a crazy amount of talent," Heinkel said, wiping down a section of the counter. The familiar action suddenly reminded Winry of Harry, and a wave of nostalgia went over her. "He's like that in a lot of respects, I've found. Channeling that into the right direction is his problem."

"No kidding," Winry laughed, then took a sip from her hot chocolate. "For the first few weeks I thought he was the biggest jerk ever, and I had no idea why _anyone_ wanted to be friends with him. Turns out, he's one of the nicest people ever."

"When he's not being an asshole," Heinkel grumbled under his mustache, making Winry laugh again.

"Mm-hm, other than that, he's great."

"I know he's difficult," Heinkel said, becoming serious. He paused in wiping the counter, eyes focused on Edward's back. "But he's a good kid. Helps people out when they don't even know they need it. That what happened to you tonight?"

"I, uhm, well, kind of. I knew I needed help, I just don't think _he_ did." She dropped her eyes to the granite counter top, recalling what Heinkel had said about having a sixth sense about people in distress.

"Do I need to make any calls? I've got a friend Darius with the police, and he can take care of anything you need," he said, making alarm tear through Winry.

"What, _no,_ no, nobody—_no one_ needs to call _anything_."

"I'm sure that's not true," Heinkel said, casually resuming the cleaning of the counter. "But I trust you two to deal with it accordingly. Edward is a choice for help in a crisis. Though he doesn't always seem to notice when he_is_ the crisis."

"_That's_ for sure. If he would just accept my _help _sometimes…"

"Well, he's accepted _something's_ help. It may not seem like it to you, but he's a lot better than the last time I saw him. You have anything to do with that?"

"Hm? No, he's better than I've seen in a while. At least, I think he is. He doesn't really tell me…we haven't really been talking lately," she sighed. "There've been a lot of ups and downs, and lately we've hit our worst one so far."

Heinkel braced his hands on the counter, eyes flashing behind his glasses.

"I know it's tough. Somewhere along the line, he became convinced that pushing people away and getting hurt now is better than letting them in and being hurt later, but whatever it is you two have, _keep it_. You kick him into shape, 'cause when that boy is good, he is _good. _Understand?_"_

"I, uhm, yes," Winry spluttered, uncertain as to where on earth this speech had come from, but truly understanding what it was Heinkel was trying to say. They both had noticed a change in Edward that night, one that promised so many good things in the future. Hopefully she could help to make it permanent.

Heinkel nodded and pulled his hand back, folding his arms.

"That's good to hear."

"What's good to hear?" Edward asked, making Winry jump again. He had finished his conversation with Izumi and returned without her noticing.

"I was just making sure that she didn't ever go to that second rate diner over by that school of yours."

"Oh, _gosh, _don't tell me that he sucked you into that dumb rivalry of his," Edward groaned, rolling his eyes as he dropped onto his stool.

"Uhm, I guess?" Winry said, making Edward laugh.

They remained in the coffee shop long enough for the two of them to finish their hot chocolate. Winry ate and complimented her pie, which made Heinkel practically glow with pride (he had personally made the recipe of most all the pastries served in the shop, and clearly did not get to show off his baking prowess as often as he'd like), while Edward asked for a to go box for his slice. Heinkel packed up his pie, muttering something under his breath about wasting perfectly god dishes, but Winry was certain that his mustache was hiding a smile.

"We'd better be going," Edward said, noticing Winry stifle a yawn. "I'm pretty sure Winry would like to catch _some_ sleep after the day she's had."

"Alright. You kids go on and enjoy your normal sleep habits. And stay safe on the road out there, got it? I need you to come back and buy more of my stuff."

"_Sure,_" Edward said, dropping down a bill to cover their costs. "Later, Heinkel."

"Bye, Heinkel! It was nice meeting you," Winry called over her shoulder as she followed after him. He waved at her, and Winry couldn't help but think that he looked rather lonely, standing there in a secret coffee shop with no one to share its wonder with.

"Homeward bound?" Edward asked, once they were back in his pick up and had the heater going.

"Can we go somewhere to just look at the rain? I don't…" Winry swallowed, trying to get past the lump in her throat. "I'm not sure I'm ready to go back to school, yet."

Edward nodded and pulled away from the Laundromat, not asking any questions. After a few minutes of driving, he pulled up to a park. It was relatively dark in the section, a few distant streetlights and a lit fountain the only things breaking up the continuous murk.

"This good?" he asked, and Winry nodded, glancing at the clock. There were about five minutes to midnight, and she _swore_ to herself that she would get this right. He turned off the car, the absent hum of the motor making the air seem strangely still.

"This is great. Thank you, Edward, really. For everything you've done for me tonight, I'm so thankful. You really didn't need to—"

"Didn't need to pick you up and help you out? Of course I did, don't be stupid."

"Aside from that. You could have just taken me back to school right away and that was it, but you didn't, and I—I'm glad. I don't think I can say thank you enough."

"Uhm, yes you can," he said, shifting and looking a little uncomfortable. "I was just—"

"No, shut up, let me say this," Winry said, trying to smother her smile and get him to listen. "We both know that, after all the stupid stuff we both did, you could have easily dropped me off and never looked back. And I just…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said, and how I acted, and I was so damn _proud_ that I didn't even _try_ asking you what was wrong, even when I totally knew something was. I'm sorry, Edward. I want you to know that."

"Ho-ly _shit,_ you are not doing this to me," he sighed. Winry stared at him, hardly able to believe that _this_ was his reaction. He turned his head to look at her, a slight disbelieving smile on his face.

"You don't really think that the whole thing was your fault, do you?"

Winry paused, retort frozen on her tongue.

"Look, we _both_ know that I've been the biggest jackass in the history of the world. I shouldn't have—" He swallowed, making a face as if his next words physically pained him. "I just—I'm sick of doing this, of trying to stay ahead of all my faults. I need to own up to them."

He shifted his whole body to face Winry, eyes scared and determined.

"Winry, I'm sorry. I'm a failure at just about every human interaction I attempt, and I blamed all of that on other people, because being some asshole was just _easier_ than being a decent, responsible freakin' person, and I'm sorry. I hate that I said those things to you, and I hate myself for making you hurt like that, and I've wished just about every damn day that I could take them back, really, I do, and you probably should never forgive me, but I know that you will because you are a _good person,_ and I want to have actually earned some of it. Winry…I'm sorry."

Winry opened her mouth to say something, then shook her head. A part of her wanted to jump out of the truck, climb onto the roof and scream at the top of her lungs that yes,a thousand times_ yes!, _she forgave him, but another part wanted to start sobbing and smacking his shoulder because he was so _stupid_, but he was the perfect match for her because she was every bit as stupid as he. She glanced at the clock, gave a tiny laugh, and settled for some halfway point.

"Okay. Okay, Edward. I forgive you. Consider it my gift to you for your birthday."

"What—" Edward leaned back, looking confused and a little alarmed at her words, but she just put a hand on his arm. Winry picked up the plastic box containing his pie and opened it.

"Happy birthday, Edward."

Edward stared at her a moment, golden eyes wide. He glanced at the clock, noticed that it had just flipped to midnight, then gave a soft laugh as everything clicked into place.

"You _sneaky_ little shit," he said, and Winry laughed, shaking her head.

"Mm, yes, best way to thank someone," she said, suddenly feeling infectiously, deliriously happy. She didn't care that she had been going around and around and around with Edward over the last few months, chasing pain to happiness to pain again, didn't care that he was about as tempestuous as they came and would likely continue to be that way (if a little less so) for the rest of his life, didn't care that a few hours before, she had been kidnapped because of her passing friendship to him. Winry was just happy to be there, to greet the new day with Edward in his new pickup truck over a piece of pie, several overdue apologies, and a whole lot of bright promises.

Winry held Edward's hand, biting her cheek and praying that the sudden tears in her eyes weren't going to spill over, because crying just didn't seem right in such a perfect moment.

"I was meaning to give you a pie for your birthday the entire time. I actually had just finished making one earlier today before, before—"

"Your luck's just that good," Edward laughed, and she remembered him saying that back in his dorm kitchen.

Edward leaned in and kissed her, as gentle as he had been the first time. She blinked and suddenly the tears dropped, barely brushing her cheeks, but she hardly cared.

Their first kiss had tasted like mint and sadness. This one tasted like hot chocolate, hope, and determination.

He pulled his face away like last time, but it wasn't out of horror and anxiety. This time, it was to brush away the traces of tears on Winry's face.

"That bad?"

"_No,_" she said, voice half a sob and half a laugh. Edward grinned at her, a look so bright that it lit up the dark around them and slipped inside Winry's chest.

They stayed in front of the fountain just long enough for Winry to sing Happy Birthday to Edward, and for them to share his slice of birthday pie. The entire time, Winry made sure to hold Edward's hand.

* * *

><p><em>AN <em>_*delicately mending all of your broken hearts and dreams*_

_I took a few liberties with Heinkel's character, but I really like them. He's an insomniac, and spends this extra time on innovation and creation (ie the coffee shop). He enjoys throwing secret parties at said coffee shop with friends. Darius is his epic bro, and they have fab rough and tumble adventures together._

_Ghosts That We Knew – Mumford & Sons  
>Poor Little Rich Boy – Regina Spektor<br>Same Mistakes – Eric Hutchinson  
>Home – Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes<br>Night and Day – Carmen Lundy  
>Rainy Night in Georgia – Hem<br>Moment Musical No. 3 – Franz Schubert_


	35. Delicato

_AN the end of this chapter is vomit my updating schedule is vomit my social life is vomit my emotional state is vomit_

_OKAY SO YOU GUYS DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND HOW DISGUSTED I AM WITH MYSELF FOR TAKING ANOTHER FREAKING MONTH BECAUSE IT WAS 99% READY ABOUT TWO FREAKING WEEKS AGO BUT I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED SO YEAH._

_A lot of you guys commented on how you thought that it was a really bad idea that Edward and Winry weren't calling the cops about her whole kidnapping business, which I found a touch amusing, considering a lot of you also worried more about the pie when she was kidnapped rather than her XD But no worries, I always planned to have them do that. Last chapter Edward was simply prioritizing Winry's emotional state over__ contacting the authorities, no worries ;)_

_WHOO 35TH CHAPTER._

_continue about your day._

* * *

><p>Though Edward would have been utterly content to stay in his truck cab with Winry and eat pie and just feel <em>good<em> for the rest of his life, he knew that they had to eventually get back to the real world.

Not long after they pulled away from the fountain, Edward noticed Winry trying to stifle a yawn.

"Saw that," he said, like they had been in some sort of competition over who could stay awake the longest.

"Yeah, well, I've had a rough day," Winry mumbled, leaning her head against her seat belt. Edward gave a soft chuckle as if to say '_no kidding'._

Underneath all of that sunshine the last hour or so had stuffed in his chest, Edward could still feel the stabs of anger at the Ouroboroughs for involving her. He was also pretty pissed at himself, because he should have _expected this. _He should have known that the Ouroboroughs would target her, or any of his friends, really. For some reason, they really, _really_ wanted him to be a part of their gang, but he had naively thought that he could skip through it all by himself. Winry was the logical choice for them to attack, anyways. Her introduction to them had been to essentially shout from the roof tops that Edward meant something to her, if she was willing to stand between them and him. Edward desperately begging her to run away probably hadn't done them any favors, either.

Edward ran a knuckle along his eyebrow, trying to keep himself from imagining the worst of kidnap. She had sworn to him about a thousand times that they hadn't done anything to her, other than tie her up and roughly transport her from place to place, but he knew Envy, knew what kind of savagery he could commit. It was only sheer luck that Winry hadn't been harmed while under his partial custody.

He pulled up to one of the side gates near his dorm and parked. All night he had been struggling to maintain a facade of calm for Winry's sake. He had nearly lost it in the beginning when he had picked her up, as the stark, horrific reality of things smashing him across the head. She had been a wreck, soaked, hair a mess, dirt splattered all over her legs and shoeless feet, not to mention the fact that she had the eyes that read only terror.

He turned the engine off, and after feeling the comforting rumble of the engine beneath him for so long, Edward felt like he was floating, unconnected to the ground. He touched Winry's shoulder, thinking to wake her up, but she seemed perfectly lucid when she looked around.

"You ready?" he asked, referring more to heading back towards the scene of her kidnap, rather than heading back into the rain.

"Uhm, yeah," she said, and he forced himself to not comment on the slight shake in her voice. He gave a short smile and nodded, the best way he had to let her know things would be okay. Edward cleared his throat and pulled the keys from the ignition, getting back to business.

"C'mon, Rockbell, if we're going to sneak back onto campus, we might as well do it now."

He hopped out of the car, pulling his hood up against the rain. There was a pause before Winry stepped out, and he called "I swear I'll lock you in the cab if you don't move it."

She hurriedly hopped out, throwing him a sneer over the hood of the car. He shrugged and walked towards the gate, holding it open for her.

They ran towards his dorm, heads ducked against the rain. Winry bounced from foot to foot as he unlocked the door, and the slipped inside the moment he had the door open.

"_Finally_," she gasped, rubbing her arms as if that would push the warmth back into her. Edward rolled his eyes and walked back to the door to his dorm, fumbling for the right key.

He fumbled around for a light in the hall, grunting out a few curses when they blared to life.

"What's that?" Winry asked as he stumbled towards his door, squinting at his keys again.

"What's what?"

"This," she said, picking up a box that was situated at the foot of his door. Edward opened the door and glanced at it, trying to push away the surly dread creeping in his stomach.

"Nothing. Just a package mailed to me."

"It says it's from...your dad." The room was dark with only a street lamp's light shining through the window, but he could see Winry looked up at him. He would just imagine the expression on her face, with her eyes wide with panic and maybe even shock.

"Yep. Put back in the hall, would you?"

"Why?"

"So I remember to dump it somewhere on my way out."

Winry groaned and rolled her eyes, firmly setting the box down on his table.

"Oh, come _on,_ Ed, you don't even know what's in it."

"Yes, I do," he said, shrugging out of his coat and boots. He closed his eyes, wishing he could just stand there and savor the way his stomach filled up with butterflies at her calling him Ed again. But Winry was scowling at him, a clear sign that she was not going to let this go.

"It's here today, so it's obviously a birthday present. And since it's from Hohenheim, it's a book."

"How do you know that?"

"Because that's what he _always_ gets me. A book that's really hard to find or is freakishly expensive, and a phone call tomorrow morning at eight thirty on the button. Bam, great birthday present."

"Edward, will you at least open it?"

"Winry," he sighed, turning to face her, "please, let's not do this. I've had just about the worst damn day imaginable before I found you in that alley, and I don't want to mess things up with you. Not after we just fixed things."

Winry looked at him, face caught in the yellow light of the street lamp outside. He was begging her, and they both knew it, but he really didn't care. Edward was tired, he'd probably ripped apart his relationship with his brother, he was generally pissed at the world, and really didn't want to make things worse by dwelling on his father. All he wanted to do was _go to sleep._

She was looking at him in a way that said she really just wanted to hug him and tell him not to worry about it, or anything else, but she just nodded. Winry opened her mouth and paused.

"I...alright, Ed. But tomorrow, we are talking about this." She pointed at him with a finger, as if nailing his obligation to the wall. He laughed and shrugged, then headed to the bed. Winry kicked off her shoes and dropped down beside him, wrapping her face in a pillow.

"Looks like we've come full circle," she said, and he laughed, not opening his eyes.

"Yeah. But if I'm ever such a jackass to you again, just, I dunno, hit me with one of your wrenches."

"Alright. Just remember you told me to do it."

"Sure, sure," he mumbled, already trailing into sleep.

* * *

><p>Edward woke up around eight thirty the following morning with a groan and a curse.<p>

"Ah, beautiful words to greet the day," Winry said, voice floating to him from across the room.

"Nothing's beautiful in the ass crack of the morning."

"Ed, it's after eight thirty."

"Mm-hm, tell me that when I _didn't _stay up until after midnight."

"Teenagers do that all the time, you know."

"And they don't typically go to bed at nine."

Winry made a strangled noise of surprise, which made him laugh. She was sitting at the table, legs sitting on a spare chair.

"I go to bed freakishly early, remember?" He sat up, groaning as he pulled his hair out of its braid.

"Oh, yeah, because you wake up at _four thirty._ Does going to the gym really seem so important?"

"Nope. That is, in fact, why I plan on giving it up."

"What happened to Izumi using your arm as a sharpening block?"

"Not give up the gym _entirely_," he said, rolling his eyes. He walked over to her, leaning on the edge of the table. "I'll just, I dunno, go after school or something."

Edward shrugged as he said it, as if it really was no big deal, but he couldn't help but drop his eyes. Winry had noticed that he hadn't worn his gloves the night before, and given his less than graceful handling of her initial questions about his automail, she understood how touchy he was about the subject of people knowing. The lack of gloves had been more unhappy accident than anything, as he had forgotten them when storming out of the Hohenheim Manor, and figured that on the grand scale of things, some random strangers seeing a kid with a metal hand was ranked somewhere near the bottom.

Part of that mentality had been spurred by Alphonse, if Edward was honest with himself. While Edward had been driving around, trying to get his head straight after their argument, he had had a lot of time to reexamine just about everything in his life, no matter how uncomfortable it might have been. Amidst the hours of reevaluation and casual self hate, he had come to realize that every stigma he had created about himself was just a waste of time. While he wouldn't be able to shake them off without a second glance, Edward was determined to get rid of them, and soon. It wouldn't be the most enjoyable thing, but he was tired of running away and making himself miserable.

"Seems like a plan," Winry said, not pushing the subject. He glanced down at her, a little surprised, but didn't comment.

"So, uhm, what do you feel like having for breakfast?"

"Not omelets," she blurted, then gave a slightly sheepish grin. He laughed and shook his head, feeling his stomach flip with well earned shame.

"No, gosh, no omelets. I don't really have much, honestly. It's really just cereal."

"That sounds great," Winry said, following him to the kitchen to pull out the bowls and spoons.

After they were settled at the table, Edward cleared his throat.

"Winry, you know, we should probably call the police."

She didn't look up from her cereal, but he could tell that she had heard him from the way she seemed to hunch in on herself. She swirled her spoon around her bowl, not saying anything for a moment.

"I know."

"...So?"

"I...don't want to."

She set down her spoon and looked out the window, sighing a little. He watched her bite her lip, wishing he could spare her from this, but knowing that they had to do it. Edward had mostly shelved his problems with the Ouroboroughs because very few people actually believed him when he said that a gang was targeting him. He had exactly made an effort of _convincing_ them, but he had figured that if no one wanted to listen to him the first time, screaming it over and over wasn't going to help much. But if they were willing to go so far as to _kidnap_ someone, especially a high profile someone like a student from St. Bradley's, then he was pretty sure people were going to want to know.

"Winry."

"I know," she huffed, closing her eyes. "I know we need to, I really, really do, but I-I don't want to. I don't want to have to go relive all of that. I just—I just want to forget."

"I know you do. Trust me, I know better than anyone else. After something truly horrible happens, curling up and never thinking about anything ever again seems pretty appealing, but Winry, if we don't stop the Ouroboroughs now, or if we don't at least _try_, then what's going to stop them from trying it again?"

"Why would the police even listen to us?" she asked, looking back at him. There were tears in her eyes and she seemed to be biting great ugly sobs back, but her voice didn't shake. "What's to convince them? We're two dumb kids, we have no evidence. 'A couple of guys broke into my dorm without anyone seeing, tied me up, took me to some warehouse, which I burned down to escape'? There's _no way_ that's going to fly at the police office."

"I think it's a little bit more hopeful than you're thinking."

"Edward, I was gone for less than a _day."_

"Because the amount of time you were kidnapped determines whether the kidnap was bad or not."

"Maybe! I don't know what their policy on the whole thing is."

"I'm pretty sure kidnap is kidnap. You say that it happened in an important place like this, get a few big names like Hohenheim involved, they'll be falling all over themselves to catch them."

Winry pursed her lips, looking doubtful. Edward reached across the table, brows furrowed as he spoke.

"Trust me Winry, I'll be right there every step of the way. It's my fault you were dragged into this whole thing, and I'll be damned before I let someone else get hurt because I refused to clean up my messes."

"Edward, I'm scared."

Winry sounded small and scared, like a little girl that didn't know what she was supposed to do. It jolted through his stomach, as he had never seen her like this. She was always the tough, reliable one, the person that would always be able to stand tall and shoot straight, even when other people were falling around her.

He wanted to do something for her, anything, squeeze her hand or maybe brush her shoulder, because while he couldn't take all of her fears and worries away, he might be able to soothe them, just a bit. He could see in her eyes that this was something that had climbed deep inside of her and clung to her soul, and though he knew that despite her brave face and strong words this would always haunt her, Edward still wanted to do something to make it _better._

The phone rang, making them both nearly jump out of their seats. They both turned to stare at Edward's cell phone, which was vibrating on the counter. Winry whirled to stare at him, eyes huge as she forgot about her own problems.

"Oh my gosh, Edward, _it's your dad!_"

"Dammit," he sighed, glancing at the clock. Sure enough, it was eight thirty. The phone continued ring as Winry smacked his arm over the table, a bizarre sort of energy sweeping through her.

"You've got to go answer it!"

"No, I don't."

"Edward, he's calling to wish you a happy birthday! You have _got_ to go pick up that phone, right now."

She was speaking in a sort of stage whisper, as if his father might be able to hear her if she spoke too loud. She waved a hand at him, as if to shoo him towards the phone. Edward grit his teeth, knowing he would regret this.

"Fine. I'll go answer the phone _if_ you agree to go with me to the police."

"Edward, what—"

"Hey, I'm not calling him back if I miss the call."

Winry glared at him for half a second, then blurted "Fine, _nowgogetthephone."_

Edward heaved himself out of his chair and answered the phone, earning a loud sigh of relief from Winry.

"Hello?"

"Oh, uhm, hello," his father said, sounding a little surprised to hear his son's voice. "I didn't expect you to pick up the phone."

"I almost didn't," Edward said, dropping back into his chair. Winry shot him a look, but Edward too focused on the fact that neither one of them questioned the fact that Edward made a point of screening all of his father's calls. There was a pause, in which Winry hissed "_Put it on speaker phone!_" He glared at her and shook his head, but she gave him a look that left absolutely zero room for arguments, so he pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the speaker button. He mouthed '_Be_ **_silent_**_'_ at her, and she nodded her head fiercely, clasping her hands together and pressing her index fingers against her lips.

"Why the sudden change?" Hohenheim asked, completely unaware of the frantic exchange on Edward's end of the phone.

"I dunno, just felt like some proper fatherly words of advice, now that I'm officially a man," Edward said, rolling his eyes. Winry threw a dry piece of cereal at him, glaring and mouthing all sorts of reprimands at him. He made a face at her, but found himself straining to hear his father's dry chuckle.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't offer much on that front. I managed to stumble through life on the grace of other people's social abilities, and you never were really interested in business, were you?"

Edward bit back some nasty comment about how Hohenheim didn't know jack about him (even though he was correct), because he knew that Winry would probably throw her entire bowl at him. Plus Alphonse's words about shoving his father away out of fear kept coming back to him, and some stubborn, competitive part of him demanded that he prove his brother wrong.

"No," he said after a moment, the word sounding like granite to his own ears, "I guess not. I guess there's a reason why you shuffled me into a music school, and not a business one."

"I suppose so."

There were a few more moments of awkward silence between them, and it was getting pretty damn difficult for him to think with Winry staring at him like that. She looked like she was both on the verge of giving him a huge, stupid grin and beating his shoulder for his social inadequacy, so he was pretty relieved when Hohenheim began talking again.

"Oh, did your present arrive?"

"Yeah. I haven't opened it yet, though."

"Planning on saving it for a proper celebration?"

"No, I just haven't had time. I barely woke up."

"Oh, alright. I wasn't sure if Al was going to throw you a party or not."

"No, he's got better stuff to worry about right now. Midterms, and all."

"Right, right. Do you, uhm, feel ready for those?"

"Yep. I've still got a week, though."

"I see..."

At this point, Edward forgot just about every single thing a human being could talk about. Hohenheim seemed to have done the same, as nothing but quiet static came from the phone. He glanced at Winry, who looked like she was about to pop from the effort of keeping silent, then glanced back at the phone.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I couldn't be in town for your birthday."

"It's...uhm, fine." Edward couldn't but help hear the question in his voice, which was asking why Hohenheim felt the need to apologize for something that really didn't affect Edward. The point of being nowhere _near_ his father on just about every special occasion had been made long ago.

"I should only be out of town for a few more days, then I should have, uhm, finished what I need to."

"Alright, then." Edward cast another glance at Winry, but this time he was wondering if she had noticed the hesitation in Hohenheim's voice. He couldn't really explain it, but it sounded like his father had been on the verge of saying something, but had thought better of it at the last second.

"Well, Edward, it was...it was nice being able to speak to you. Hopefully we can make this a habit."

"Yeah, maybe," Edward said, because, alright, he hadn't _totally_ hated the past few minutes, and throwing a bitch fit over being around his father was kind of exhausting.

"Well, goodbye, son, and good luck with your tests. Oh, and happy seventeenth birthday."

"Thanks. Uhm, goodbye to, uh, g'bye to you, too."

Edward ended the call, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eyebrow, as if that would be able to take the tense awkwardness out of the air. There was a soft sound as Winry moved in her chair, and he looked up to see her waving her fists in the air, an undeniable expression of delight on her face. Her mouth was wide open, but he had the feeling that was because she wanted to shout something to the world in joy, but had no words to describe just what she was feeling.

"_Edward,_" she finally managed, "that was _great!_"

"I'm...glad you liked it."

"No, you don't _understand._" She slapped her hands down to the table, staring at him. "This...is _good._ When was the last time you spoke to your dad?"

"A few weeks after school started."

"Okay. That was _months_ ago, so that's one thing. When were you last civil with him?" Edward looked away, seeing her point and not wanting to add to it. She kept staring at him though, so he finally grit out an "I don't know. So?"

Winry sat back, looking satisfied.

"_So_ you're making progress! Last time we talked about your dad, you made him seem like this king of ice or something who doesn't care about you—"

"That's because he _does—"_

Edward pulled in a breath and closed his eyes. Alphonse's words were ricocheting around his head, stopping his words in their tracks. Winry was watching him, sensing that there was something going through his head.

There was a pause in which the uncertain tension could have been cut with a string of dental floss, but then Winry spoke up. Her voice was soft, as if not wanting to ruffle him unduly, but there was still a trace of iron determination in it.

"I know you don't want to admit it just yet, but I think you'll be glad that you picked up that phone and started to mend things with your dad. Better to know that you actually tried to have something with him, instead of looking back when he's gone and wishing that there had been something more."

And just like that, pretty much all of the semi-warm feelings inside of Edward's chest had vanished. Of course. Now he understood at least some of her insistence that he try to make amends with his father. After having lost every single member of her family, how could she _not_ want to see everyone else with a family that was happy and whole?

Edward swallowed, then nodded.

"Yeah, uhm, you're...I guess you're right."

"Really?" she asked, sounding more than a little surprised. He gave her a tight smile, unsure how much of his agreement stemmed from Alphonse's harsh truths, guilt at carelessly spurning his family in front of her, and his own acceptance of her words.

"What happened?" she asked after a moment, voice hesitant but supremely curious. "Something's different, you're not..."

"Me?"

"_Bitter._"

Edward closed his eyes again, trying to tell himself that her comment didn't sting.

"I...I dunno, I talked with Al, I guess."

"You guess?"

"_Winry,_ that is not _helping._ I talked to Al, and he, I dunno, he called me out on what I was doing. Like, how I was acting. And I...couldn't stand it, so I...ran away." Edward looked away as he mumbled out the last few words, embarrassment making his cheeks burn. Winry, thankfully, had enough kindness inside of her to keep from laughing. He knew that if he grabbed up the courage to look at her, she would be watching him with undeserved amounts of sympathy and concern, but Edward figured it was just better to stare at his slightly rumpled bed.

"Is that why you were out driving?"

"Yes. Al told me about the truck before we fought, and then I figured...why not? And while I was driving, I just...I got so sick of being _me,_ that I just wanted to...stop. So I guess you should really be thanking Al for saving you, because if it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have been out wandering the middle of Sketch City, nor actually thinking that I wanted to change what my life had become."

"Right, I'll make a note of that, the next time I see him."

Edward glanced up at Winry, who was giving him a small, understanding smile. He gave an uncertain grin back, and she reached across the table, hand outstretched for his. He hesitated a moment, then placed his hand over hers. He closed his eyes, loving how _right_ it felt. She gave a small, shy smile back, and they both just sat there for a few moments. Things were ticking on around them, people's lives were beginning and ending and becoming unbelievably better and worse, but Edward felt like they were frozen in one blessedly perfect moment.

But he knew that they couldn't stay there for forever, that eventually they would have to get up and deal with real life things. He gave her hand an extra tight squeeze, then said "Winry, we...I guess you could say that whatever comes, we can do this."

"Can we?" she asked after a beat, some of the sorrow and panic from before the phone call leaping back into her eyes. She had remembered that she was the one with the real problem there, and also that it terrified the absolute hell out of her.

"You bet your ass," he said, swearing to himself there and then to never break that promise, no matter what.

* * *

><p><em>AN T<em>_he more I think about it, the more I feel super uncomfortable with the fact that I have basically glorified weird and unhealthy relationships with this portrayal of Edwin and I would like to drop a great big whopping disclaimer here. This should be a no brainer, but this is not at all ideal for relationships and please note that I have sacrificed normal, healthy relationship development for the sake of plot and this model is really not the greatest thing to shape your ideal relationship around. If anything, go more for the Royai thing because even though they are so messed up it's a reasonable messed up that is not wantonly ignored or poohed away but confronted and dealt with due to the blessed common sense and no nonsensery that Riza Hawkeye has been born with._

_Is This Love? - Corinne Bailey Rae  
><em>_Ain't No Mountain High Enough - Marvin Gaye feat. Tammi Terrell  
>Larghetto BWV 1055 - JS Bach<br>__Big Parade - The Lumineers_


	36. Biting Down

_AN I AM SCREEEEEEECHING I DIDN'T REALIZE THAT I HIT THE TWO YEAR MARK ALMOST ON THE HEAD WITH MY LAST UPDATE. UGH THIS IS A BIG DEAL, OKAY? OKAY. PLUS YOU GUYS WENT AND TIPPED ME OVER THE SIX HUNDRED REVIEW MARK, WHAAAAAAT? (you're all probably tired of hearing me talk about stuff like this, but WOW I NEVER EXPECTED THIS)._

_This chapter required quite a bit of referencing from earlier in the story, and can I just say that ohmygoshiwanttoscreambecAUSETYPOSSSSS. It is a miracle you guys didn't cut out halfway through from such sloppy technical work on my behalf._

* * *

><p>Despite Edward's confident claims, Winry couldn't help but doubt the future that lay ahead of them. Granted, he had promised that they would be able to get through whatever came at them, not that they would be unharmed in the process, but still. A very large part of her was wondering if maybe it would be a good idea after all to lie back down and say nothing, not go to the police, not inform the school, never speak of the event ever again. Distantly she realized that <em>maybe<em> she might have had a different attitude on the matter the previous morning, but that was when she _hadn't_ been kidnapped by psychopaths.

Edward clearly sensed her worry, as he did the one thing that would be able to properly distract her - opened his present from his father.

"I don't even know why he got me this thing," he mumbled, sliding the box in front of him. "I mean, he already got me a brand new truck, for shit's sake, why's he getting me a book?"

"Tradition, maybe?" she asked, leaning forward, her elbows on the table. "Ed, do you...do you really throw away birthday presents from your dad?"

"No," he said absently, getting up to grab a knife from the counter. He sat back down and popped open the tape, then pulled out the book. He scanned his eyes over it, then paused.

"What is it?" Winry asked, leaning over the table and craning her neck to read the title.

"It's a book of Xerxese mythology," he murmured. She glanced at his face and smiled when she saw that it had become intent. His eyebrows had furrowed slightly, and he leaned in as he opened it to the first page.

"Xerxese? That's pretty cool," she said, leaning back.

"Yeah, I mean, I've been trying to find this stupid thing for _weeks,_ I don't know how-how did he even find this?" Edward looked up at her, surprise and delight combating for dominance of his face. "I've looked _everywhere,_ this book is _impossible _to find, unless I want to learn Xingese or something."

"Xing has a book about Xerese mythology, but Armestris doesn't?" Winry asked, wondering how that was possible, considering the Xerxese were the ancestors of most southern Armestrians.

"I know, right? I think it has something to do with some treaty made a few hundred years ago," he said, flipping through the book.

Winry broke into a full on smile when she tried to say something more to him, and he didn't respond. He was completely absorbed in skimming some of the pages, regardless where they had come from. She watched him for a moment, then looked out the window. It had begun to drizzle again, making Winry wonder how long the warm snap would last. It was December already, and aside from a few mornings of ice on the ground, winter hadn't yet made its presence known.

She sighed slightly, thinking over her plans for the break. She would be leaving in a week or so to go down to Resembool to spend the holidays with Harry. Winry couldn't wait for the break to arrive, mostly because a pitiful, cowardly part of her was hoping that maybe she could go down there and stay past break, an indefinite solution to her problem with the Ouroboroughs. Winry closed her eyes and sighed through her nose, wishing that she hadn't promised to speak to the police so rashly. A few minutes ago, it had seemed like a good deal if it meant Edward took at least one step to healing the relationship with his father, but now... she was having second thoughts, say the least.

"Oh, crap, Winry, sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you," Edward said, suddenly jerking out of his reverie. She smiled and shook her head, glad to have a distraction from her thoughts. Anxiety had begun to creep up through her stomach again, making it difficult to breathe.

"It's fine. It's your birthday, after all. Enjoy what you have."

"I will when we're not faced with something huge," he said, making the anxiety leap a little bit higher in her chest.

"Edward, can't I just-"

"No," he said, practically glaring at her. "You are going to the police, and you are going to explain exactly what happened to you, got it? There's no way I'm going to let you crap out on me."

Winry just looked at him, feeling completely defeated.

"Can we just... slow things down a bit? I'm... Ed, I'm freakin' out, and I don't know if I'll be able to go up to a police man and explain what happened without breaking down." She bit the inside of her lip as she finished, wishing that the foremost worry on her mind wasn't about her embarrassment over the thought of crying in front of strangers.

"...Yeah, of course, Winry," he said after a beat. He gave her a tired smile and nodded. "Instead of going to the police right away, would you be alright with talking to another one of your friends?"

"Like _who?"_ she asked, already disliking the idea.

"The Colonel," Edward said, no hesitation in his voice. "He'll want to know if something's happened to you."

"He barely _knows_ me," Winry protested. "I mean, yeah, we talk sometimes at lunch, but we're not exactly what you'd call _frie-"_

"Doesn't matter. Trust me, he cares. He will want to know, and he will try to help. And on matters like this, the more clout you have behind you, the better. Will you talk to him?"

"I...I don't...okay," she said, and it sounded like an exceptionally pitiful surrender in her own ears. Winry put a hand to her face, and took a deep breath.

"This...this is all so overwhelming," she admitted, not looking up. "I don't really...I don't really know what to do, and it feels like I _should_, like I should have this all wrapped up in a little box to be dealt with, but I really don't and that _scares_ me, Edward. I just... I don't know what I'm doing."

"I know, Winry, I understand that," he said, and somehow his voice sounded incredibly confident, but also entirely comforting. "But just trust me on this. You _don't_ have to do it all yourself. That's why you have friends, right? So you can have someone else take the reins when you're falling apart."

"Right," she said, giving a weak smile and begging herself to not start crying again.

It took a few minutes, but eventually Edward managed to help Winry pull herself back together enough so they could go out. It was a Saturday, but he assured her that Roy wouldn't be difficult to get a hold of.

"I really don't want to be an inconvenience for him," she mumbled vaguely, wrapping her arms around herself as they headed towards the side gate. The rain had eased up so that it was barely even a drizzle. It was still cold, though, making Winry wish she had something more than the sweatshirt Edward had bought for her.

Edward gave a soft snort at her words and shook his head. He fished out his phone as they walked, scrolling through his contacts.

"Here, I'm gonna call him. Do you want to talk to him if he picks up?"

"I, uhm, maybe?" Winry stared at Edward, then pursed her lips together. "I'd honestly prefer to speak to him in person, you know?"

"Yeah, I got it," he mouthed, phone against his ear. Winry waited, torn between wanting to hear Roy's response that instant and not wanting him to pick up the phone. Edward was quiet at the phone rang, eyes on the ground as they walked.

"Hey, Roy, it's Edward...oh, _save it. _It's almost ten, you should be up already." He listened a moment, then snorted. "Right, you need your beauty sleep. Look, I didn't call to hear you bitch. There's something more important."

_Oh gosh, here it comes,_ Winry thought, hands clenching at her sides. The moment turned elastic and stretched for an eternity, until Edward finally said "It's about Winry. She's going to need some help."

Roy said something, and then Edward sighed. "You know, it would really be a lot better if we could talk face to face. She's fine, now, but this...it's not something I can take care of myself."

Edward paused as Roy said something, then he rolled his eyes and gave a disgusted "Oh, _piss off,_" before emphatically ending the call.

"What'd he say?" Winry asked, hoping she didn't seem too desperate.

"He said he'd meet us outside his dorm." Edward nodded at the direction of the building, and they turned their feet that way.

A few minutes later, they met up with Roy. He seemed cheery as usual, but Winry was certain that the hard edge in his eyes wasn't just her imagination.

"So, what can I do for you two?" he asked, easily falling into them beside them. He aimlessly ran a hand through his hair, and despite having apparently just woken up, Winry had to admit that he was effortlessly pulling off the messy chic look. Edward seemed a little bit less impressed, as he had his lips pressed into a flat line.

"There's...a situation that came up last night," Edward said, clearly struggling for the right words. Winry closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself for what came next.

"What do you mean, exactly?" Roy asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked casual enough, with his hand resting in his long blue coat and his head ducked against the drizzle, but his shoulders were tense, like he hadn't had much sleep the night before (not that Winry could really criticize him on that front). She also had the feeling that he was taking in everything around him and storing it away for future use, which may or may not have been perpetuated by the quiet, appraising look he had given her. Winry had no doubts that he had noted the sweats and sweatshirt, as well as her strange choice in footwear, and was probably starting to fit some of the less radical pieces together.

"Well..." Edward began, then broke off, shaking his head. "Okay, screw it. Last night...last night Winry was kidnapped by the Ouroboroughs."

Roy raised his eyebrows, clearly not having expected this development. They walked on for a few moments as he processed things, then he looked at Winry.

"What happened?" he asked, and somehow, Winry knew he wasn't asking about the details of the actual kidnap, but how she had gotten away.

"I...set their warehouse on fire," she mumbled, trying not to make it sound like a question. He gave her a humorless smile and said "A girl after my own heart," then became serious again.

"How did they take you? Were you walking home?"

"No, I-I was in my dorm," she said, ordering herself not to start choking up again. "A repairman knocked on the front door, and I was the only one there, so I had to go talk to him. I…it was Envy. I tried to lock him out, but he forced his way in, and then when I tried to climb out my window, Greed was there, and they...they grabbed me."

"They took you from the dorm?" Roy asked, and she had never heard someone's voice sound so much like ice shattering. "What time was it?"

"Uhm, I don't know, in the afternoon. All the other girls in my dorm had gone into town like usual, so no one was there to help me."

"In the middle of the freaking _day," _he murmured, shaking his head. "They knew where you were, when it would be easiest to grab you, and absolutely no one saw. How did they get you out?"

"They put me in a duffle bag, carried me out to the street, and then dropped me in a van."

Roy shook his head, lips pressed tight. He was refusing to look at her, but she had the feeling that it was probably because he didn't want to completely lose it when he saw the blatant fear

"They didn't hurt me, they didn't do anything to me, actually, they just took me to this warehouse. I was there for a few hours, and then I managed to find this and that, and set the warehouse on fire. And in the commotion...I escaped."

"Then she ran into me. I was driving around last night, and she literally barreled into the side of my car," Edward supplied, sensing that Winry was about to start crying again. Roy seemed to snap out of the moment, as he cast Edward a sideways look.

"Driving around in your car? You don't_ have_ a car, you don't even have a _license."_

"It was a birthday present, jackass," Edward said irritably, but then Roy shook his head and focused back on Winry.

"Just like that, you managed to escape? Do you have any idea _why_ they took you?"

"I think it was because of Edward," she began, glancing at him. "I saved him from them once, and I think they got it into their heads that we're, I dunno, close or something."

"You think they were using you as leverage against him. These people would do _anything."_

"Now that she's safe, we were going to go to the police. And in a case like this, Roy, it would be a good idea to have as many people backing us as possible."

"Right," Roy said, nodding. He seemed to straighten a bit, resolving to do something. "Right, definitely go to the police. You're right, to get things done before they try something else, you need as much weight behind you as possible. Plus I know a couple people in the force that will listen to you, so don't worry, Winry. You'll be alright."

"I _am _alright," she mumbled, ignoring Edward's look of_ 'I told you so'_ at Roy's comment of having connections. "I just...I'm scared, you know? I don't want...I don't want to go through that again." She dropped her head, thankful that her face was already a bit wet from the drizzle, as it helped hide the pinpricks of water spilling onto her cheeks.

"You won't have to," Roy said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I swear, Winry, we'll get you through this without any more harm coming to you."

She gave Roy a weak smile and nodded, knowing that her voice wouldn't come if she tried to speak.

"_But,_" he continued, the gentleness leaving him as he started laying out his plan, "there's no way you can just go back to the dorm you were kidnapped from. Have you told the administration yet?"

"No, we just barely got here," Edward said. "I spent a few hours trying to help calm her down, and it was past midnight by the time we got back. We just woke up a few hours ago."

"Okay, then let's keep this under wraps. Clearly the Ouroboroughs have connections inside the school, else they wouldn't have grabbed Winry from such a specific location at such a specific time. Until we get this sorted out, Winry, you need to stay somewhere else."

"Where?" she asked, giving a surprised blink. "I came here because my grandma died in Resembool, and I don't have anyone else that I can stay with, not with any convenience, anyways. I don't have anywhere to go off campus."

"Yes, you do. Riza's house is a block away from the school, you can stay there."

"With Riza? How's _that_ any safer?" she demanded, not meaning to sound ungrateful or question the safety of Riza's house, but she honestly couldn't see much of a difference.

"Well, for one, no one's going to expect you to go there. And two, the Lieutenant's got a gun."

"_What_?"

Winry leaned back to stare at Edward behind Roy's back. He shrugged and gave her another _'I_ **_told_**_ you so' _look, which Winry made an unpleasant face to in response, then returned her attention to Roy.

"No, Roy, I really appreciate your offer, but come on. I couldn't do that. I can't just _invade_ Riza's privacy like that, I barely even know her!"

"Trust me, Winry," Roy said, expression grim, "she's not going to protest. Not when it's your life on the line."

Winry closed her mouth after that, just starting to realize what it was she had been dragged into.

* * *

><p>Riza, like Roy had said, was completely ready and willing to open her home up to Winry.<p>

He had led them to her house, the entire time asking questions. He had this strange sort of intensity about him that Winry still wasn't quite comfortable with, because this wasn't the confident, easy going Mr. Popular that she was used to. This Roy was firm, cool, and ready to tip the world over to help catch the people that had kidnapped her. It certainly made her thankful that he was on her side.

Riza had ushered them inside with a smile that said she knew to expect something terrible, and had listened to Roy's quick explanation without so much as an expression of horror. The most she had given was a thin frown, but other than that, she had absorbed the whole situation with ease. When he asked her if she would be willing to share her home with Winry until the whole thing blew over, the girl had given a precise nod.

"Of course. Winry, please, make yourself comfortable," she had said, turning to Winry. She gave a warm smile, then turned back to Roy.

"How long do you think you'll take finding everything out?"

"Oh, not too long. I just need to check a few things, and then we'll be good," he said casually, but Winry could tell from the way they looked at each other that there was _something_ passing between them. Some unspoken thought had bounced from brain to brain in a second, causing Riza to turn her head ever so slightly as she stared at Roy. Winry watched them, wondering what Roy was really planning on doing next, but also not certain if she _really_ wanted to know.

"Well, then, I think we had better get going," Roy said, pushing himself away from the table they were all seated at and standing up. "Things to do, people to see, you know, stuff. You girls behave yourselves, now, don't need you going around and causing _trouble_ for the nice people around here."

"Get going, Roy," Riza said, smiling and rolling her eyes as he waved and headed out the door. Edward left shortly after, touching Winry on the shoulder and giving her a look that _begged_ her to call him the moment something was wrong. She gave him a smile as promise, but couldn't help feeling a little bit alone as he walked out the door.

Winry shifted a moment, realizing that she was going to be spending the foreseeable future in Riza Hawkeye's house. She ran through everything she knew and had seen of Riza, most of which was not exactly the most inviting thing. Riza had the best reputation as Roy's nanny, keeping him in line when it came to girls and cracking the whip when he attempted to put off his work. When she wasn't around him, listening to his big schemes and offering dry bits of reason to his conversations, Winry didn't actually know that much about her. She played the violin, was rather serious, though if she had a moment, she always asked how people were doing, she was good friends with Rebecca, she lived in a house by herself near the campus, she had a dog...

Winry blinked, realizing that that was just about it.

_Great,_ she thought, putting a hand to her forehead, _the most defining feature about the person whose house you're crashing revolves around a friendship she has. You are going to have a **fabulous **time here._

"You must be exhausted," Riza said, making Winry look up. The girl had a concerned frown on her face, and leaned in a little bit while she spoke.

"Oh, uhm, kind of? I mean, I just slept, like, nine hours straight, so I'm not exactly sleep deprived."

"I wasn't just talking about sleep," Riza said, frown morphing into a smile. She may have only been seventeen or so, but Riza's brown eyes were far too tired for her age. She had seen things that she had probably never wanted to, been put under stress that she had barely withstood. Winry swallowed at the thought, feeling comforted as well as a little guilty.

"You've been under a lot, and not just since yesterday. Losing your grandmother, moving to Central, adjusting by yourself, struggling with St. Bradley's insane school load...then you add the whole business of yesterday, and geez, it's amazing you haven't dropped from exhaustion yet."

"Not for lack of trying," Winry laughed, shaking her head. Riza put a hand on her arm, and it felt like she was negating all of Winry's worries for the moment.

"Then take this opportunity while you can. It's the weekend, relax a bit, don't do your homework, take some you time. You've also been working at an autoshop, right?"

"Uhm, yeah, Garfeil's Autoshop."

"See? You've been working yourself to the bone. We'll go get you some of your things from the dorm, then when we come back, you are going to just chill out around here, and not worry about _anything._"

"I'll try," she said, sounding a little doubtful. Riza's dog padded over to Winry and sniffed her leg, pressing his cool nose against her skin. Winry smiled and leaned down to pet him, trying not to let the situation make her cry again. She closed her eyes and swallowed, swearing to herself that she _would not cry_ over Riza's unexpected kindness.

"Thank you," she managed, looking up at the older girl. "I really don't know what I'm supposed to be doing now, who I can turn to, and I just...I'm thankful that you're willing to help me, much less share your_ home _with me."

"It's nothing," Riza said, voice becoming even softer. "It's a terrible thing that happened to you, Winry, but it's not a permanent thing, it's not something that's going to scar you for forever. I think it's brave of you to talk about it, much less be willing to confront it so soon after it happened."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't really my decision," Winry admitted. "Edward did a lot of pushing on that front."

"Well, I'm glad he did," Riza said. She let silence grow between them for a moment, then clapped her hands together, suddenly becoming brisk.

"Alright, we've got stuff to do, and we might as well do it now. Let's go get some of your stuff from your dorm and truck it on back here, then I'll show you around the place and help you get settled."

Winry nodded again and stood up, feeling tears prick at her eyes, even though she had sworn to herself that she wouldn't let it happen.

* * *

><p><em>AN I really wanted to show more of Winry struggling with the reality of her situation in this chapter, but I don't know how well I did it. I also kind of enjoyed writing Roy when he was all serious, because we've seen several sides of him with this story, but not flat out serious.<em>

_bleck bleck i wanted to say more but my brain's fried so yes please tell me what you thought_

_Le Festin d'Esope - Charles-Valentin Alkan  
>A Walk - Tycho<br>Biting Down - Lorde  
>The Search is Over - Survivor<em>


	37. Good People

_AN SCREAMING I MANAGED TO UPDATE. AND IT HASN'T BEEN A MONTH. JUST LET ME BACKFLIP ALL THE WAY TO THE SUN BECAUSE OH MOMMA, AM I FEELING GOOD._

_I adored the tons of comments you guys gave me, thank you, thank you, thank you! I feel like there are so many things that I haven't mentioned or addressed, but I just can't think of anything else right now, so if there's something you've been wondering about, just toss me a review :)_

_And yes, **finally**, Winry gets to talk to the police ;)  
><em>

* * *

><p>Going back to her dorm wasn't as bad as Winry had thought it would be. Her friends had been supremely relieved when they saw her, though they did manage to cast a few curious looks at Riza. She forced her smiles and gave the excuse of having gone over to Riza's house to study, but being forced to stay the night due to the storm. Rose in particular looked slightly annoyed at having been put through a pointless panic, but after several apologies and saying that she had forgotten both her phone and Rose's number, the let it drop.<p>

"Honestly, I'm just glad nothing happened to you. We tried not to jump to the worst conclusion, you know, but when we didn't hear anything from you..." she said, following Winry back into her room. Winry bit her cheek and tried not to break down completely, blurting out everything that had happened to her over the last fourteen hours, knowing that spreading panic would not help anyone. There had been a reason why Edward had turned to cool headed people like Roy and Riza.

Rose eventually returned to her room, leaving Riza and Winry alone. Thankfully, no one had questioned the abrupt closeness between the two girls, nor why Riza had felt the need to stay close to Winry throughout the whole ordeal. She didn't say more than she had to, and didn't hover around Winry. Riza was just a comforting presence, even when she stepped out so Winry could change into her normal after street clothes.

Winry had her bag packed in a few hurried minutes, and was glancing around her room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. She had noticed that either Greed or Envy had closed her window, probably to help hide her kidnap. The reason made her stomach churn, but Winry forced herself to be thankful that rain hadn't gotten in.

"Okay, I think we're...oh." Winry had continued turning, and come face to face with the pie on her desk. In her hurry, she had completely forgotten it. Riza raised an eyebrow at her as Winry picked up the pie and headed out.

"It's for Edward," she explained quietly, then called farewell to her dorm mates. They all called good byes in return, having returned to their normal routines now that she was safe.

"I made it for him, right before...well, it's his birthday today, and I think he could use something nice after all the stress."

"Don't you?" Riza asked with what Winry _swore_ was a smirk. She pulled the door open for Winry, as she had her hands full with the pie, then followed her out of the buildings. As the reached the walk way, Riza's phone chimed in her pocket. She answered it, gave a few 'okays', then turned to Winry.

"Hey, Winry, do you mind if we put a pin in your relaxation time?"

"For what?" she asked, unsure she wanted to know where this was going.

"Roy's setting up a lunch with someone you should talk to. If you're up for it, we'd have to go right now."

"Who is it?"

"She's...part of the police force. Don't worry, it's not going to be the full scale interrogation you're imagining," Riza added, noticing how Winry's eyes widened in vague horror at the thought. "It'll be quick, roughly an hour, then we can go home and do whatever you want. Plus, Roy's buying."

"O...kay, then," Winry said, noticing how it sounded more like a question than anything. Riza gave her a comforting smile, then turned back to her cell.

"Alright, she's good for it. You're picking us up, right? Okay, good."

Riza hung up and put her phone in her pocket, nodding at a side gate.

"Roy's going to be picking us up over there."

"Can we stop by your house first? I don't want to have to cart around this pie."

"Yeah, of course. Then we'll go pick up Edward and head to lunch."

Winry gave Riza a smile, but she couldn't help but feel things would be a little bit more complicated than that.

* * *

><p>Winry held her hands in her lap, trying not to fidget. The car ride had been a little awkward, with her, Riza, Roy, and Edward all stuffed into Roy's car. It wasn't like they didn't have any breathing space, but everyone's anxiety was making the air thick. Still, she had made it through without puking, which was nice, and when she got out of the car, her legs didn't give way, which she was incredibly thankful for.<p>

As she waited for Roy and Riza to get out of the car, Edward put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's gonna be okay, Winry. Roy swore this wouldn't be a full out interrogation, just a quick talk."

"Yeah, yeah, Riza said. I just...Ed, I'm scared. I keep thinking about all the things that I probably shouldn't have done, like changed clothes, or-or burned down the ware house, what if-"

"Winry, for the love of everything ever, _relax._ They're not going to throw you in jail for taking _care_ of yourself. But hey, if you want to jump back in the past and give yourself pneumonia, sure, fine, go ahead."

"Hey, you two done stalling? Or do you like standing out in the cold?" Roy called, waving at them from the door. They both started and hurried inside, Winry's fretting momentarily stifled.

"So, uhm, who exactly are we meeting? Riza said it was a woman?"

"Mm-hm," Roy said, unbuttoning his dark blue coat as he walked past tables. Riza had already sat down at a table tucked away in a corner, and was sitting across from two people, though Winry couldn't see who they were as they had their backs to her. "She's actually the-"

"Oh _no, _you did _not_ set up a meeting with _her," _Edward interrupted, looking a little bit horrified as he stared past Roy at the woman sitting with Riza. Winry leaned around the older boy, trying to see just who was able to strike such fear into Edward's heart.

"Shut up, Fullmetal. You know as well as I do that she's the best person to go to for this. She's not about to be cowed by the Ouroborough's reputation."

"Yeah, but...she's-"

"I hope for your sake that something polite was about to come out of your mouth, Hohenheim."

Winry looked around in surprise at the woman's words, wondering when Edward's father had come into the picture. Then she caught sight of Edward, who had closed his eyes and seemed to be counting to ten.

"Roy," he grit out, eyes still closed, "you are an ass, and you _owe me._"

Roy rolled his eyes, and stepped to the side, holding his hand at the woman at the table.

"Winry, this is _delightful _Police Captain Olivier Armstrong, and beside her is the ever-faithful Police Lieutenant Costel Miles. Captain Armstrong, Lieutenant Miles, this is Winry Rockbell."

Winry clasped her hands as they looked her over. They were both out of uniform, but there was something hard and efficient about them, from the erect way they sat, to the tight nod Olivier gave Winry.

She was a pretty woman, with long blonde hair, a full mouth, and delicately shaped face. Something about her eyes was cold and dark, though, making it clear that she had clawed and fought her way up to the top. Miles was equally unusual, though that was more due to the fact that he looked part Ishvallan. He had his pale hair pulled back in a ponytail that Winry was pretty sure was against regulation, but despite his intimidating exterior, his red-brown eyes were warm. At least, they looked compassionate, which was more than she could say for Olivier.

"Sit down, Rockbell, and tell us what happened," Olivier said, voice clipped as she nodded at the chair by Riza. "You can even have Young Hohenheim by you, if you want."

"Are you shitting me right now?" Edward asked, staring at Olivier. "Are we really going to do this, right now, when Winry needs help?"

"Do you really want to irritate me?" she snapped back, nailing him with a look that was more or less composed of daggers. "Because I _bet_ you've fed your delinquency addiction within the last forty-eight hours, and I am not the least bit bothered by sending you through some hell. It is fully within my power to drag your ass through court for a few months, just because I feel like it. Maybe I can even squeeze in some time in the police department's cell, if you're lucky."

"As much fun as abusing power is," Roy cut in loudly, "I feel we should get back to the main matter at hand."

Edward rolled his eyes and dropped into a chair by Winry, looking like he was chewing on every swear word he knew. Roy sighed and sat between him and Miles, glancing over the menu.

The next few minutes was an awkward haze of ordering food and tense barbs tossed between Olivier and the boys. Roy seemed to be trying to preserve the peace for Winry's sake, but had limited success until Riza came to his rescue. She was completely casual about it, not even looking at anyone as she picked up her drink as said "I thought we were here to discuss the fact that Winry was kidnapped last night, not to act like a bunch of petty children."

Everyone paused, then Olivier tossed her hair and turned back to Winry. She shifted, uncertain as to just what it would take to drag her onto Olivier's bad books.

"Alright, Miss Rockbell, down to business. What happened?"

"I, uhm, I was in my dorm," she began, unable to keep herself from glancing around the cafe. The rest of the patrons were a ways away, preferring the view offered by the windows, but Winry still felt incredibly nervous. "I was alone, the rest of my dorm mates were out in the town, and I heard the door knock. I went to the door, and...it was one of the Ouroboroughs, Envy. He was dressed up as some sort of repairman, and at first I...I didn't recognize him. But then he looked up at me, and I _knew_ it was him, and he-he forced his way in. I ran into the back part of the dorm, slammed the door, and tried to run out through the window. But then another member, uhm, Greed, he was coming across the lawn towards me. They had me completely trapped, and they...they caught me."

"How did they get you out of the building?" Miles had leaned forward while she explained her story, and was looking deadly serious when he asked the question. Olivier's expression hadn't changed, except for a critical eyebrow to creep higher and higher as Winry went on. Winry took a breath, telling herself that this was no different from when she had told Roy a few hours before. It was just the truth, simply laid out. It wasn't like she had to detail the horror and panic screaming through her chest, or the pressure of Greed's hold around her ribcage, or Envy's hand on her ankle after he had slammed her thigh into her chest. She just had to give an outline, the bones of what happened.

"They, uh, they gagged and bound me, then put me in a duffle bag. Then they carried me out to the road and put me in a car."

"Do you know where they took you?"

"Not really. They kept me in a warehouse, that I, uhm, burned down."

"You burned it down?" This came from Olivier. Winry gave a shaky nod, uncertain if it was disbelief, annoyance, approval, or even _anything_ coloring her voice. If the woman would just _respond,_ that would be something.

"Yeah, I knew I had to get out of there, or else they were going to do something awful to me, and there was no way out other than creating a distraction. And fire...well, it was just the easiest."

"How did you set a fire if you were bound and gagged?"

"I managed to break the zip ties holding my wrists on a desk in the room with me, and then went over to a metal cabinet in the corner. It was the kind that held flammable liquids, and there was a hole in the back. I managed to make it bigger with a wrench I slipped down my sock-"

"A wrench?"

"Yes, I'm a mechanic," she said, feeling increasingly nervous with each interruption. Edward reached under the table and set his hand over hers, as if telling her that it was alright. Winry took another breath, then continued explaining her escape.

She detailed retrieving the acetone bottle, lighting the desk on fire, and finally running out into the rain before crashing into Edward's car. Every few sentences Miles or Olivier would interrupt her with a question. She answered each of them, trying to bite down the shake in her voice and the growing desire to bolt. Winry really didn't care what Riza or Edward had said, this was _hard_ and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to vomit and hide in her bed.

Only once did she have to stop completely, and that was when the waiter delivered their meal. It was bizarre for Winry to be tossed back into normality, even if it was just for a few seconds after reliving one of the most horribly fantastic experiences in her life.

But finally, _finally_, her story was done, and Miles and Olivier seemed satisfied. Their expressions had barely shifted throughout the whole exchange, but they both fell silent and Olivier even leaned back in the seat.

"Well," she began, not taking her eyes off Winry. "You've been through quite the adventure."

"Do you...do you have enough to get them?" she asked, wishing she didn't sound quite so pathetic. Olivier didn't seem to notice, though, as she cracked her first smile.

"We certainly have something, and I'll be damned if I don't use it to nail those bastards to the wall."

"We just have to catch one of these people you mentioned," Miles added. "After that, there's no way they're going to get off."

"Even with their connections to the school?" Roy asked. He was looking at Olivier now, but had stayed mostly quiet throughout the whole exchange, arms folded and eyes locked on Winry. She had refused to look at him (or any of her friends, honestly) while she had been speaking, terrified of the horror or pity that was bound to be on their faces. He had remained that same steady sort of serious, though, completely calm and ready for business.

Olivier gave a soft scoff, stabbing into her salad.

"Would you have come to me if you thought that was honestly a deterrent, Mustang?"

"Good point," Roy conceded, giving a black smile. Winry looked at Edward, confused as to what that meant. He leaned over and whispered "Olivier Armstrong has gathered a reputation of breaking rules to catch criminals."

"I've gathered a reputation of _getting results. _And I think that's exactly what you need. If these lunatics are really kidnapping kids for some perverse powerplay, then something needs to be done. And that's certainly not happening under the Commissioner's methods."

"I'm sure Police Commissioner Falman is doing all he can, though he doesn't know that the Ouroboroughs are branching out in this manner," Riza said, before taking a spoonful of her soup. Miles nodded, swallowing a bite of his sandwich.

"Certainly. But I wouldn't miss up on a chance to undercut him by scoring a big case before anyone even knew it existed," she said, giving a smile that was entirely made of ice. Winry frowned, thinking that it was strange to say the least that she would be openly discussing the sabotage of their friend's father, but the figured that this was the last thing she needed to be worrying about.

"Just be aware that this doesn't feel like an isolated incident," Miles said, grabbing Winry's attention. "Even with a man inside of the school, there's no way they could pull off something so cleanly without precedent."

"So you're saying that this has been happening in St. Bradley's _all the time?_" Edward asked, automail hand clenching around his spoon. Winry glanced at it, knowing that if he squeezed a little harder, he would deform the handle.

"Not necessarily at St. Bradley's, but certainly at private schools like it. People will do a lot for their children."

Winry wanted to point out that this _wasn't_ about her parents, her parents were _dead, _this whole thing had been aimed at Edward. They wanted him to be part of their gang, nothing else. Her case may have been similar because of the method, but the motive was completely different, if Miles was to be believed.

Miles and Olivier left the diner shortly after. They said their terse goodbyes and stood up to leave. Winry didn't really know them, nor had she developed any sort of connection with them in the short time they had been together, but she felt a pang of loss at seeing Miles and Olivier getting ready to leave. There was something about determined, high ranking police officers sitting a few feet away from her that made Winry feel far more secure than she had all day.

"Thank you for telling us, Miss Rockbell," Olivier said, not looking at her as she fastened up her coat. "I appreciate what you have gone through, and how difficult it was for you to detail all of it out for us. We'll catch them."

Winry nodded, realizing that this attempt at comfort, no matter how paltry, was a rather exceptional gesture on Olivier's part. By the time she even tried to open her mouth to say something, though, Olivier had turned on her heel and was stalking towards the door. With one final smile, Miles was gone as well.

"Freaking _really_?" Roy asked, looking at Olivier's practically untouched plate. "She probably ordered that just because she knew I was paying."

"Probably," Edward said, popping a few more fries into his mouth. "She wouldn't be a grade A bitch if she didn't screw with you in every way."

Roy heaved himself out of his seat, grumbling to himself as he chased after Olivier. Winry turned once again to stare at Edward, before finally blurting "_Who the heck **are**_ they?"**  
><strong>

Both Riza and Edward laughed, shaking their heads almost in sync.

"They, Winry, are the heads of one of the most infamous groups of police officers this city has seen. They have a ridiculous set of numbers when it comes to bagging criminals, and it is all because of Olivier Armstrong," Riza explained, stirring her soup.

"She was transferred here from Briggs because Central needed someone like her to crack down on the violence. Apparently there was no negotiating on her behalf, except to bring a whole group of people with her." Edward picked up the story for Riza, though he continued to push fries into his mouth. Winry rolled her eyes at his lack of manners, but was too interested in the story to reprimand him.

"Is that even allowed? Like, did she even have enough sway for that?"

"Yeah, you get that sort of power when someone wants you bad enough."

"Holy crap," Winry breathed, whirling her straw around in her cup.

"Yep," Edward agreed, taking a bite out of his burger. Riza laughed again, making Winry suddenly realize that she was dealing with veterans of a dark, ugly, and incredibly powerful underbelly to the rich and entitled world she now lived in.

"Okay. Okay, I get that. And how do _you _know her, Ed?"

"Well, for a while I was in and out of jail because of the Ouroboroughs. The school officials that the police contacted refused to believe that I was being targeted by them, and without them to vouch for me properly, and generally made my life and nightmare."

"And the whole 'Hohenheim' thing?"

"Ugh, that's just something Olivier does to screw with me. I pissed her off because I was wasting my opportunities or something, I dunno, so she decided to irritate me any way she could."

"So she calls you Hohenheim because of your problems with your dad."

"Yeah. Isn't she just a ray of sunshine?" Edward rolled his eyes, taking another vindictive bite out of his burger. "I literally do not know a single person she is _nice_ to. The closest she's got is Miles, and then maybe some of the people that work under her. She treats her own brother like dirt, and he's one of the best men I've met."

"While I wouldn't agree with her method, I do think it's wise that she is exceptionally reserved when it comes to her feelings," Riza said, ever the voice of balanced reason. "She's seen some pretty awful things, and if she let her emotions run rampant...there's not way she'd be able to get up every day."

"Yeah, _okay,_" Edward scoffed, returning to his food. Winry nodded and took a bite out of her sandwich. She chewed, mulling over everything she'd seen in the last hour.

"Okay. So Ed knows her from his delinquency days-"

"I wasn't a _delinquent-"_

_"_But...how does Roy know her?"

"Roy...has had his own little stints with the law," Riza sighed, watching Roy as he spoke to Olivier and Miles outside the diner. "Despite his flawless charisma and charmingly arrogant exterior, he's had his own run of stupid choices and habits."

"You can't _really_ think that I'm the only one with a boatload of problems at the school," Edward laughed, which made her shrug.

"Well, _no,_ but I just...I didn't expect there to be so many that involved _the law._"

Riza snorted and shook her head, giving Winry the impression that she had been dragged into more trouble than she would have ever liked because of Roy.

"Welcome, Winry, to being rich."

* * *

><p><em>AN It was kind of weird writing for Olivier, because I don't especially like her character so I haven't learned her inside and out and developed all of these different theories and takes on her, but I feel like I did a good job. Miles is another one of the characters that I would love to write a series about, but I just have no ideas for the poor little dear :T<em>

_Any goofs and mess ups found with the interrogation/evidence required to catch the Ouroboroughs can and will be explained away by the fact that Olivier just makes stuff happen XD_

_Good People - Jack Johnson  
>Sixteen Tons - BB King<br>Puttin' on the Ritz - Rufus Wainwright  
>Diamond Music - Tim Neumark<br>Song from a Secret Garden - Secret Garden_


	38. Eighth Rest

_AN So I've come to the understanding that every time I update within a reasonable amount of time, I must them wreck all of my good work and forget about all writing obligations until I am literally two days away from a two month mark. ASDFJKL; WHY._

_Part of the lateness is due to me not having a real clue as to what this chapter should entail. I had a few vague ideas, but most of it is seat of my pants work, so. Which is also a contributor to the shortness of the chapter, but hey, can't always give you 10,000 word beasts ;)_

_BUT STILL HEY FIRST UPDATE OF THE YEAR, HOPEFULLY THERE CAN BE SOME IMPROVEMENTS._

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><p>Riza slipped out of the house, closing the door softly so as to not wake Winry. She was impressed with how the girl had held up during the interrogation, ignoring Olivier's abrasive manner and the less than peaceful atmosphere of the table as she had recounted the story. She looked exhausted and exceptionally anxious as she had spoken, but not a hysteric mess, which Riza assumed many people would have been.<p>

Winry had been pulled together all through the rest of lunch and the car ride home, but the moment she had kicked off her shoes and sunk onto Riza's couch, she had crashed. Riza had been a little alarmed at first, seeing the bone-deep _weariness_ in Winry's face, but the girl had waved Riza away, mumbling something about just needing to sleep. She had been out for about ten minutes when Riza had decided to call Roy.

Riza leaned against the brick pillar of her stoop, so that she still had a decent view in the house and of Winry, while still being protected from the gentle drizzle. Her phone trilled softly as she waited for Roy to pick up, a sound that fit in perfectly with the serene quality her street was giving off.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Roy."

"Riza," he sighed. It was part relief, part strain, which was exactly how she felt. Hearing the details of Winry's story had rattled them both, and not just because they were staring a monster in the face. More than that, the way Winry had been so insanely _calm_ about it, swallowing back whatever screams and tears she probably wanted to loose as she dutifully detailed everything before practical strangers... it was awe inspiring and a little disconcerting, say the least.

"I know, Roy. I know."

"How is she?"

"She's sleeping. She looked absolutely dead on her feet when we got home."

"I'm glad she _can_ sleep after all of that. I don't know if I'd _ever_ want to let my guard down after that."

"Well, that's why she's with me, isn't it?"

"Yep. Riza Hawkeye, resident bodyguard for those in need."

"Or too stupid for their own good."

Roy snorted at her jab, then fell silent.

"Does it seem like we're in over our head?" she murmured, and even to herself, Riza sounded like a scared little girl. "Like...we think we can do it all, because so far, we've been forced—or have chosen—to do everything by ourselves, but now...this is dangerous, Roy. This is scary."

"I know, Riza," he sighed, and she could just imagine him, leaning his head on the steering wheel of his car, or on his dorm window, or his bed frame, like the thoughts that filled his brain had made it all too heavy for him to hold it up by himself. "I don't know what I expected...or if I expected anything at all. How can you expect that some nice fifteen year old girl you know from school is going to be kidnapped by a gang of psychopaths?"

"How can you expect that she'll make it out alive, less than a day later, all due to her bravery and wit?" Riza countered, glancing back through the window at Winry's sleeping form. Roy chuckled, and she imagined him shaking his head.

"You don't. You just...get swept along when it does happen."

They both fell silent for a moment. Riza drew in a breath, trying to find the courage to say what she had been thinking about ever since she had heard Winry's story.

"What did Captain Armstrong have to say on the matter?" she asked. She had guessed that Roy had chased after Olivier in the restaurant to talk about more than wasting food, but hadn't wanted to mention it in front of the other two.

"She...said that they had reason to think it was more than just a possibility of having a precedent on the matter," he admitted, and even though this was in theory good news, he sounded awful. "Just little things here and there that were written off as accidents or isolated events. But now that Winry was able to give details that had never been available before, they're thinking that the net is cast a little bit bigger."

Riza opened her mouth to say something, then paused. Roy's words only seemed to reaffirm the thing she had been thinking from the moment she had heard Winry's story, but she desperately didn't want it to be true. If it was...then they were woefully unprepared for what came next.

"Roy...do you think...maybe...that Winry and Maes—"

"Are connected? Without a doubt." Riza closed her eyes at his words, because the sudden cold edge in his voice that she had been dreading was far worse than she had imagined.

"There is _no way_ two kids from the same elite private school can be victims of exceptionally questionable crimes. Plus with the police, or at least, Olivier and Miles are thinking that Winry's kidnap wasn't a first for the Ouroboroughs...the dots seem to line up a little bit too nicely."

"Do you think maybe the Hughes' are into something?"

"Or rather, _not_ into something. Most likely, they upset the Big Bad by not falling in line, and so they…were punished. I mean, can you honestly imagine them being involved in anything of ill repute?"

"No," Riza sighed, tugging the sides of her sweater a little closer around her. She didn't even have to pull to mind the bright, open faces of Maes' family to decide. They were the most decent people she knew, and would never get wrapped up in _anything_ with the Ouroboroughs.

"Anyway, Falman said that Maes was the target of a gang. And while it would be nice to _not_ be dealing with lunatics like the Ouroboroughs, there's no way we're going to have _two_ gangs ballsy enough to mess with the most powerful people in the city."

"Roy, we can't handle this one. There is _no way_ we can fake our way through, not with everyone's _lives_ on the line! These people are willing to destroy children just to get to their parents. We can't...there's no way we can do this."

Riza leaned back against the pillar, feeling her breath catch and jerk as she realized just what they had waded into.

"Riza, hey, Riza, listen to me," he said, voice that terribly soft sort of soothing that he only used when she was completely falling apart. "It's alright, no one said we had to do this by ourselves, alright? We just...get some help."

"From _where_?"

"Friends...and, you know, the police." Riza bit her lips, desperately trying not to let all of those words of utter terror and anger rip out of her. She knew that she would regret everything she would say, and now was not the time to antagonize Roy.

"The police, huh?"

"Yeah, they kind of have the market on catching bad guys."

Riza gave a dry chuckle, sighing. She glanced down the street, watched a car go by, thought about school and how she was expected to go back on Monday, like nothing had happened, like the biggest thing on her plate was an irresponsible boyfriend and finals.

"I think you may be onto something there, Mustang," she mused. "We by ourselves can't hope to deal with things, but with a little bit of help, boosting us up and holding us steady, we can break the surface."

"That's my girl," Roy laughed, and it filled her chest with hope, hearing just a little bit more light in his voice.

They were quiet for a while, breathing into the line and letting their thoughts take over. Riza closed her eyes, suddenly wanting him there. She had been forced to be conservative with Roy at lunch, with Winry and Ed there, but all she really wanted at the moment was to have him hug her, or stroke her hair, or hell, even hold her hand and look into her eyes like he only let himself do when they were alone and tell _it was alright._

"Am I gonna see you before school next week?" Riza asked, clearing her throat and trying to not think like an obsessed sixteen year old.

"Maybe. Winry staying with you _does_ kind of throw a kink in our plans. Now we've gotta find somewhere else for our weekly hot, private, make out session."

Riza rolled her eyes, not even dignifying his comment with a response.

"I'm gonna talk to Madame Christmas about this," Roy said after a beat, voice changing into something that was a little bit too casual to be real. "You know, spread out our net. A group of gangsters _has_ to pass through a brothel at some point."

"And then one of the girls can try to get something out of them?"

"Maybe, if they drop by soon. With them all having tattoos, it shouldn't really be that hard to tell if it's them."

"No, no it shouldn't."

There was another stretch of silence, then Roy sighed.

"I better get going. Make sure that Winry doesn't fret herself to death or something, you know, keep her eating, and all that."

"Of course, who do you think you left her with? I am the ultimate mother hen."

"That you are, Lieutenant. And Riza?"

"Yeah, Roy?"

"Take care of yourself, alright? Can have you dropping dead on me."

"No, I suppose you can't."

"Alright, then. Bye."

"Bye, Roy."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Riza smiled slightly as she hung up. She turned to open the door, then paused. She blinked, realizing what they had just said, so casually, like it wasn't anything new, didn't have any extra value. They had just said they loved each other for the first time.

She stepped inside, a little bit shocked at the realization. Their relationship, while abnormal, wasn't the most bizarre thing in the world, yet something so normal as saying '_I love you_' seemed odd and out of place. But at the same time...it was kind of nice, being able to indulge in the typical, if only for a moment.

Riza closed the door behind her, and walked to the kitchen. Winry was still sleeping on the couch, so she made sure to be quiet as she made herself a cup of tea. A few minutes later the girl stirred, sitting up on the couch.

"What are you making?" Winry asked, still sounding tired, but a little bit better than before.

"A cup of tea. Would you like some?"

"Could I actually get a cup of water, please?"

"Sure."

Riza filled up a cup for Winry, and walked it over to her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," she admitted. "Not like I'm about to pass out at any given moment."

"It's a miracle, what sleep can do for you."

"Agreed."

Winry was quiet for a moment, then sighed.

"I keep thinking about it."

"That's not exactly surprising," Riza said, taking her mug of tea to the table. "You underwent an extremely traumatic event, and you have nothing to show for it except for a few scrapes and bruises. You're little more than a walking miracle, Winry. I know I'd think the last few hours were a little surreal if it were me."

"Being kidnapped wasn't surreal," Winry said, eyes aimed at somewhere near Riza's feet. "It was the escaping that was so weird, because I know that little old me shouldn't really have been able to get out of there. Not with such a fantastic plan."

"That is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard," Riza said. Winry looked up at her, surprised. "You're smart and know how to get things done, and you're telling me that it's strange for you to have done the same thing under an extreme set of circumstances? Ridiculous. Something like that isn't going to change who you are, Winry, it just brings all of what you are to the surface."

Winry gave Riza a soft smile and nodded, though she didn't look entirely convinced. They fell silent again, both content to work on their respective drinks. Riza finished her mug of tea and walked to the sink to wash it out.

"Oh my gosh."

"What?" Riza looked around, a little alarmed at Winry's tone and the sound of her (thankfully empty) cup hitting the carpet. Winry had an almost blank look on her face, staring into the distance. Riza glanced around, feeling a little paranoid after her conversation with Roy, then looked back at Winry.

"Envy knew."

"Excuse me?"

"Envy knew what I was studying. He knew that I sang." Winry turned to look at Riza, eyes widening. Riza braced herself for the dark, ugly repercussions of being kidnapped, thinking that yes, _now_ would be when Winry broke down completely. This would hardly be the first time Riza had to go pick up the pieces, but she never liked doing it, for anyone.

But to her surprise, Winry was _grinning_ at her, looking excited. She leaned forward on the couch, shifting her legs so that she wasn't sitting on them. It was like she was half a second away from leaping into the air and dancing about.

"Oh my gosh, Riza, _we can tell who the leak is!_ Or at least narrow down the number of options!"

"By the fact that they knew your schedule and field?" Riza stared at Winry, some of her excitement bleeding over. She blinked and ran through the options, and yes, they were a _lot_ slimmer than previously.

"Before, I was imagining that it was a student or something, somebody that was being blackmailed into handing over information, but there's no way a kid can find out _that_ sort of stuff, not unless they asked me directly."

"And can you think of anyone that you've told that could be threatened into giving you up?" Riza made sure that her voice was level and not laced with the excitement she was starting to feel coursing through her body. This could potentially be an amazing break through, but if it was, then they were dealing with something so much worse. She had been like Winry in thinking that it was a student that gave the Ouroboroughs information, or someone of no consequence, but now it seemed that someone in power, or at least someone with access to school files, was working with the gang. That meant someone who worked in the office, and had access to _everyone's_ file. It could honestly be anyone from Margaret, the unpleasant secretary, to Bradley himself. An if that was the case...they were in for a lot of trouble.

"No, no, not like this!" Winry really did jump up now, looking like she had just discovered a lost civilization. "I _know_ that none of my friends would do this, there's just no way. Just like Maria could _never_ have been involved in Maes' accident, no one could be involved with me! It's definitely someone higher up, someone that knows the inner workings of the school!"

Riza closed her eyes, feeling the excitement of having chipped off another clue dissolve as the rational part of her reasserted itself.

"Well, it's good that we can narrow our scope for sure," she sighed, "but I'm not exactly sure we'll like what we'll find on the other end of it."

"At this point, Riza," Winry sighed, flopping back on the couch, energy seemingly spent, "there isn't really anything that I'll enjoy about this whole thing."

Riza turned back to the sink to wash her mug, shaking her head and thinking that this was the sorry truth.

* * *

><p><em>AN Like I said, short chapter, but I think there was some good stuff in it. It contains a couple ideas (exactly one and a half) that I've been kicking around for a while, but haven't been sure where to put it, so I'm glad they're finally reached the light of day ;)<em>

_Be Not Afraid - The Dirt Daubers  
>Stars - Helen Jane Long<br>One Flight Down - Norah Jones  
>Timshel - Mumford &amp; Sons<em>


	39. Non Troppo Allegro

_AN ugh ugh ugh this chapter is short and i apologize for everything i have or have not done (but let's be real it's mostly have not done)._

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><p>Picking up Winry from Riza's house was a little unnerving, to say the least, but Edward felt that he might crawl out of his skin if he waited much longer to see her. He guessed it had something to do with the immense paranoia that came from Winry having been kidnapped, albeit temporarily (not, he repeatedly told himself, because he was literally a school boy experiencing his first crush and didn't really know how to function without having her right there beside him), which made sense. It was still a little ridiculous, but it made sense.<p>

Either way, when he dropped by the next day, the rope of anxiety around his throat loosened somewhat when he saw Winry's bright expression.

"Hi, Edward!" she said, setting down her book. After he had received a frantic and very excited call from her the day before about the potential orchestraters this whole nightmare, he had had the feeling that Winry would have been a little bit more relaxed about going outside than before. He had learned that when Winry had something constructive to do, she did far better. Hopefully they would be able to wrap this all up before something even worse happened and tossed her into a worse funk.

"Hey. How're you?"

"Fine. You?"

"Great. I'm great. About ready to tear my hair out from all the waiting, but fine." Winry laughed and nodded, putting her hands in her sweatshirt pocket.

"Mm, I get that. It's amazing I haven't driven Riza up the wall yet."

"Don't sell yourself short," Riza said, breezing into the kitchen. "She cooks, she cleans, tells me about all sorts of things. It's kind of like having a maid I don't pay for that's happy to be here that provides interesting and insightful conversation."

Edward hung around a few minutes more, making polite small talk and trying not to seem too obviously eager to grab Winry and run. It was painfully obvious that Riza was aware of his eagerness, as she took her sweet time talking to him. Finally, when Edward was about ready to fall down at her feet and beg for Winry to please,_please_be released into his custody, she glanced at her watch.

"Well, I have a few things to do before I go run some errands," she said. Edward quickly assured her that they wouldn't take up her time any longer, half dragging Winry and her coat out the door as he spoke. Riza waved goodbye and stifled a laugh, then closed the door behind them.

"Eager, much?" Winry teased, which Edward studiously denied. Now that it was finally just them, he felt his frenzy immediately cool into something a little more casual.

"I just figured you wanted out of that house," he evaded. "You've been in there for, what, two days already? And you haven't left, other than to see Olivier. How are you not going nuts?"

"I did say I was clawing my hair out."

Edward gave her a pointed look, turned to face ahead again, then gave a delicate _hmph._

"_What__,_I was!"

"Winry Rockbell, I can assure you that whatever you _thought_you were doing, tearing your hair out was not it."

Winry rolled her eyes, but settled into coat. The rain from the last few days had abated, and the cold had returned with a fury. It wasn't quite at snow levels yet, but several of the puddles they passed were frosted over.

"So," Winry began after a few moments, "what's the plan?"

"Plan?"

"Yeah. The mad dragging of friends from homes is generally an indication of a plan." Edward heaved another roll of his eyes, then said "I dunno, I just...thought you might like to see some things around town. You've been here for a few months already, but you've probably only been a few places."

Winry nodded, eyes on the ground ahead of them.

"Mm-hm. Ling and Al have taken me a few places on the weekends, but they were mostly just small cafes or something. And that's only been once or twice."

"_Please_. Sure, Al and Ling might know one or two quaint places, but they absolutely do not know this place like I do."

"And you do because...?"

"PE is a dumb replacement for actual physical activity and a superfluous part of my schedule."

"So you skip PE to wander the city?"

"I'm at least better than I was last year," he told her in way of excuse. Winry rolled her eyes and sighed at him, but he caught the grin she tried to tuck away.

"Alright, so where are we headed?"

"First, the grocery store."

"Ah, your cure all for every ailment," she said. Edward glanced at her, and his heart did this weird skip-hop thing into his throat when he saw how warm her smile was. He shrugged and nodded, putting his hands in his pockets.

"They are a blessing, that's for sure. Where else can you get circle brownies _and _shoes that have a heel yet are still exceptionally masculine?"

Winry shot him a look, one that said she wasn't sure if she was supposed to be amused or absolutely confused.

"I had a very short childhood."

"I...see?"

Edward did his own grin stifling at her still very bemused expression, and led her to the grocery store a few blocks away.

It was a small thing, more for discontinued and excess stock items than anything, but they spent about twenty minutes running around, grabbing whatever snacks they wanted. When he gave the limitation of the snacks having to fit within his coat, Winry again looked confused, though alarm was now mixed in. She was probably imagining him introduce her to the life of delinquency and theft, but he just shrugged at her.

"We can't just cart in grocery bags into the theater."

"You're taking me to the movies?" She turned to look at him, eyebrow raised as they swiped their items over the self scanner.

Edward kept his expression the same, telling himself not to be affronted at her slightly incredulous tone. In all likelihood, it was not because she thought doing something so mundane and cheap was beneath their heir-to-millions status, but probably more because of the absolute normalcy of the proposal. Also, they had kissed maybe twice, and were barely wading into the territory of expressed affection, so going on a date was probably a little unexpected.

"No, Winry, I am not taking you to the movies. I am, in fact, taking you on the wild ride that is smuggling snacks _into _the movies."

"Why? Not to sound rude or anything, I'm totally game for it, but just..._why_?" Winry kept her eyes on him as she loaded their snacks into the grocery bags, and waited for him to pay.

"Because you've never done it with me. Plus I'm showing you the town, and there's nothing that says '_Central' _like cheating the system. Which do you want, actiony and possibly trite spy movie, or funny and possibly trite underdog movie?" Edward spoke while paying the machine, studiously keeping his face forward as he spoke to keep from blushing.

"No sappy and possibly trite romance movie?"

"Absolutely not."

Winry laughed, and told him that she would see when they got to the theater. They were just walking out of the store when they both heard a strangled _'__What?' _to their right. The two of them turned and caught the briefest of glimpses of someone before Edward was punched in the mouth by his brother.

He staggered back into Winry, then fell to the very cold, very hard ground. Edward blinked stupidly as he tried to process the fact that on his very first not-date-but-really-a-date in his whole life, Alphonse, his own damn brother, had physically _assaulted _him in a grocery store parking lot. What the _hell_ had he done to—oh.

"_Are you freaking kidding me?!__" _Alphonse was now yelling at Edward, attracting the stares of practically everyone in the parking lot. Winry was behind Edward, but he knew that she was wide eyed, gaze bouncing from brother to brother. Alphonse was glaring down at Edward, yelling for all he was worth while Edward stared blankly up at him, trying to sort out the verbal onslaught.

"Here I am, worrying for _two days _because my asshole of a brother can't even pick up his freakin' phone! Do you realize that I was freaking out _all night _because I thought my brother was going to get himself killed in a car he can't even legally drive yet on his birthday, all because of something I had said?! And then two days, _two freaking days, _Edward!, two days of nothing, and then here you are, just _sauntering _through a parking lot with Winry Rockbell, like nothing ever happened!" Alphonse was leaning forward now, as if he had literally pulled the words from his toes, and his whole body had moved up and forward with them. His fists were clenched at his sides, and he was panting, but the thing that cut Edward to the core was the pain and hurt in his brother's eyes.

"Al, I...I'm sorry," he stammered, wondering how on earth he was supposed to explain himself. He had a good excuse, certainly. Kidnapping and conspiracy wasn't something to just be shooed away, but Alphonse _did _have a point. Edward hadn't exactly given his brother much thought over the last couple of days, which clearly was not the case when the situation was flipped. He guessed that when he checked his phone, Edward would have had at least five missed calls from Alphonse.

He got to his feet, hands raised to show he didn't want to fight.

"I don't...I didn't mean to hurt you like that, I just...I just got caught up."

_"__Caught up?_In _what, _Edward? Your own guilt? Self-pity? _Masochism?" _Alphonse looked like he was seriously considering taking another swing at Edward, and this time he was undoubtedly going to do some serious damage. The first hit had been more to catch Edward's attention, not to really cause any damage.

"Al, part of this was my fault," Winry cut in, sparing Edward from the rest of Alphonse's fury. He snapped his gaze up at Winry, and looked rather confused, as if he hadn't quite processed the implications of her standing there.

"I...I was having a tough night, and Edward helped me out. I've, uhm, been kind of a needy case. Roy and Riza have been all caught up in it, too. Sorry."

"You—what? What's happened?" Concern flooded Alphonse's features, but the glance he cast Edward said that he was not entirely excused.

"Uhm, could I tell you _not _in a parking lot?" she asked, taking a rather embarrassed peak around at the handful of people that had stopped and were openly staring. Alphonse looked over his shoulder, then nodded. He turned back to Edward, lips pursed, and said "We still need to talk."

Edward just barely refrained from heaving a sigh, which surely would have gotten him hit again. Instead gave his brother a nod, nervously looking him in the eye.

"Yeah,yeah we should definitely do that. Uhm, tomorrow after school?"

"Fine," Alphonse bit out, clearly not wanting to let things go. This was definitely not a good sign.

Alphonse gave a terse goodbye to Winry, and turned to leave. Acting on impulse, Edward reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

"Al, I—I really am sorry."

He stared into his brother's face, praying that he would notice the change, notice Edward's frank desire to make things better between them. For a moment Alphonse just stared at him, but he gave him a nodded, and walked away.

"Oh my gosh," Winry said under her breath, and turned to look at him. Now that Alphonse had gone, she had resumed her completely shocked expression.

"Oh my gosh," she repeated and shook her head. "What did you _do _the other day?"

"What do I ever do," Edward asked. To Winry's everlasting credit, she did not reply. He started walking towards the movie theater, and Winry obediently fell in line.

Edward inspected the inside of his lip with his tongue. He tasted the vaguest hints of blood, and his mouth certainly hurt like a bitch, but he doubted that the skin had actually torn. Even though he had pulled his punch, it was a little miracle that Alphonse hadn't split his lip with that stunt, much less dislocated his jaw. Winry watched with a sickened sort of fascination, then pulled her attention away enough to say "What...what really went down? I mean, what _happened_? You guys bicker, but that...that was really something."

"I was the biggest ass in the whole world," he sighed. "I told him that Hohenheim didn't care about us, that he probably kept Mom out of the way for another woman here in Central, that he was responsible for Mom dying, that Al was an idiot for actually seeing something good in him...then it just devolved in both of us just screaming at each other and laying out each other's flaws and problems."

"Wow," Winry said after a pause. "That's...that's really something."

"Yep. It finally ended with me storming out on Al and driving away in the pickup. Good brothering, I know."

"No wonder he was so mad," Winry said, still looking a little shell shocked. Edward nodded, all of the guilt that he had been narrowly avoiding for the last few days delicately smashing him into the sidewalk. To have pushed Alphonse to the point of punching him, and then ranting in public...Edward must had worried Alphonse beyond being sick, to the point where he was practically out of his head with anxiety. He had probably stayed at the manor, in hopes of Edward returning, which would have only compounded the problem. Alphonse and solitude resulted in a lot of thinking, which would absolutely not have been a good mix in this situation.

"Yeah. Tomorrow's going to have a _very _uncomfortable conversation."

"...Speaking of conversation, I think we should all get together and discuss what we know, or at least have guessed," Winry said after a few moments of walking. Edward looked at her, curious as to where she was going.

"Like you, me, Roy, and Riza. And probably Alphonse, because I assume you're going to tell him what happened."

"Yeah, if you want me to."

"Okay, good. And we should probably include Ling as well."

"What? Why him?"

"You and Roy both said we need as much weight to back me as possible. His dad won't get involved, but having a _prince _interested in my case, even unofficially...that's got to be worth something. At least if you drop his name, you'll be able to cow some people into helping you guys."

Edward couldn't help himself. He stared openly at Winry, extremely surprised to have heard such an..._upper class _thing come from her mouth. The entire time he'd known her, she had pushed the 'I-may-be-rich-but-I'm-really-just-a-normal-girl' thing, but he was certain 'normal' girls didn't go around, thinking how to pressure heavy weights into backing her future court case.

The two of them seemed to reach the same realization at the same time. They both opened their mouths as if to say something, but nothing came out.

_Court case. _This was going to court. They were pressing charges, and as soon as someone from the gang could be nailed and taken in, they would be presented in court. Winry would have to testify, put herself in the public cross hairs and say that yes, those people had her kidnapped and attempted to hold her hostage.

Winry looked away from Edward, and settled a little deeper into her coat.

"But, you know, that's not going to be for ages," she said quickly, more to herself than anything. "We've still got to catch them first, right? Captain Armstrong's good, and she isn't really scared of anyone like that, but...there's got to be some bureaucracy that'll keep her from going in and grabbing them right away. Right?"

"Hopefully not," Edward sighed, wondering just where along the line this had all started.

* * *

><p><em>AN I really love the parking lot scene. Al is one of those characters that I hold right up to my chest, but sort of forget how much I love them. In this story, he's been more of an ornamental piece, but the last couple of times we've seen him, he's been this delightfully separate character. Like, he's taken on his own voice and his actions seem to be driven by what he feels and wants to do, rather than what the plot dictates is good as a catalyst (that is just such an awesome thing to realize).<em>

_Try Me On - Karmin  
>Level Up - Vienna Teng<br>Prelude in G - Sergei Rachmaninoff  
>Embers - Helen Jane Long<br>I'll Be Your Man - The Black Keys_


	40. My One and Only Thrill

_AN Nobody talk to me this chapter is short but it is here in ten days and it is just very important to me. Of all the chapters that I have written, and I am so pleased that this is the 40th one (hoooooooly crap guys when did this happen. I ask every time, but asdfjkl; WHEN.). Not only do I have an extra-soft soft spot for Roy and Riza, but this is just a really pleasant chapter for me to write. Most of the big benchmark chapters have something huge and climactic going on, but I really enjoy having something so sweet and quiet happening. The gang is going to be headed into some really insane waters, and I wanted to give them just another few seconds to catch their breath :)_

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><p>Roy knocked on Riza's door, hunching against the wind and cold. He waited for a few moments, then the door pulled back.<p>

"Roy?" she asked, looking a little surprised. "Hey, how are you?"

"Cold," he grunted, then stepped over Black Hayate into the house. Riza looked a little bit concerned, but Roy wasn't really surprised by that. He had just come from Madame Christmas, and the news she had given him, while helpful...well, it wasn't great. He could only imagine the expression of bone deep weariness on his face.

"Where's Winry?" he asked. He couldn't hear her in the house, plus there were no lights on, even though it was almost dusk. Working in the dark was something Riza did only when she was by herself. Riza cracked a smile, and folded her arms.

"Edward just came by to pick her up."

"Pick her up?"

"Mm-hm. He just dropped by, about an hour ago. I think he was taking her out on a date."

"A __date__? Holy crap, Fullmetal's got game."

"Kind of. He was so cute, he could barely get a word out at first."

Roy smiled, more because of Riza's amused look than because he found the thought of Edward fumbling over himself funny. Riza's expression turned a little more thoughtful, as she said "It's good, though, to see them be able to go have fun. Especially after everything they've been through. I hope they have a good time."

Roy made some sort of noncommittal grunt, and pulled off his coat. He ignored the way Riza frowned at him, and draped it over the back of one of the kitchen table chairs. Black Hayate seemed to realize that Roy wasn't about to pay him any attention, and padded away to sulk.

"What's wrong, Roy?" Riza asked, and he shrugged.

"Nothing's wrong. Nothing new, at least. I just...I just came from Madame Christmas. She left a message on my phone about needing to talk..." Roy began. He recalled how he had trucked himself over to the hotel, and had been greeted by a gruff "Close that damn door! If I wanted to freeze my ass, I'd do the obvious thing and stick it in the freakin' freezer!" the moment he had opened the door to the back apartment. He sighed, then folded his arms.

"And?"

"One of the girls found someone with an Ouroboroughs tattoo."

Riza lifted her head, falling incredibly still, like she thought that maybe the story would flee from the room if she made any sudden movements. Roy gave her a gentle smile, and shrugged. He had done the same when Madame Christmas had told him the news, and when he had talked with the girl in question. She had been new, so he didn't know her name, and she also didn't realize just how important things had to be for him to ask a favor of Madame Christmas's girls. They may have been like sisters to him, but he didn't like dragging them into things. Nosy prostitutes generally ended in broken women or dead bodies, on either side.

"We've got them. He had the tattoo on the back of his hand. He didn't give her a name, but from his description, he certainly sounds like one of the inner circle."

"So this is it," Riza sighed, seeming to deflate slightly. "I guess I never...__expected __this to turn into anything, you know? Like, I totally believed Winry, but I never thought we'd get to the point where we would actually face them down."

"I know, I know. It shouldn't take long before Madame Christmas has an address for him, and the police can take him in." Roy walked over to the couch, and sat down heavily. Riza watched him for a moment, frowning again.

"This is a good thing, Roy. A __good___ t_hing. Right?"

"Yes, it's great, really, I just...I don't know what we're going to do after this. I mean, for the past few months, I've been trying to piece this whole thing together, even though I didn't actually know what I'd been stumbling around, and now...it kind of feels like I've forgotten who I was without-"

"Vengeance?"

"-a concrete purpose."

"Roy, you've __always __had a purpose. And helping take down a major gang, terrorizing the upper class children will only help you fulfill that purpose. If nothing else, it will get you _legions _of support."

"I know, Riza. I know. I just...it'll be strange. Hell, this might even be wrapped up by the time we go on Winter Break. A few crazy hours, and then _this_, this crazy, life changing set of months, it'll all be gone." As he spoke, Roy walked over to the couch, leaving Riza standing by the table. He seated himself heavily on the couch, realizing that this was just about the first time all day that he had sat down just to rest.

"What about the fallout in court and such?"

"It won't really be the same," he said, with a dry smile. "It won't be just my little obsession."

"Wouldn't that be nice," she murmured, rolling her eyes. Despite her sarcastic tone, Riza held herself a little bit tighter, as if needing the comfort. Roy watched her a moment, noting that she looked every bit as strained as he did. He sighed internally, wondering how much more of this they would be able to take.

"Riza," he said after a moment, and she picked her eyes up from the floor. They stared at each other a moment, her expression going from alert to slightly bemused as the silence stretched on.

"What, Roy?"

"Please."

She furrowed her eyebrows, clearly trying to figure out just what he was asking. He saw her scroll through the possibilities from worst to best in her head, until she finally decided she didn't know what he was asking (or, at least, didn't want to believe she knew what he was asking). She tilted her head in question, but didn't come closer.

"What are you asking, Roy?"

He didn't care that her voice was guarded, or that some of the tension he had finally managed to chip out of their relationship was creeping back in, or that she seemed to be preparing herself to throw him out again. He'd earned all of that a few times over, and couldn't justify getting up set.

"Can you come here?"

She waited a moment, then pushed herself off of the edge of the table, and walked towards him with measured steps. He patted the couch cushion beside him, but she remained upright, as tightly drawn as ever. She raised a single eyebrow, clearly telling him that he was stupid if he thought she would just let him fool around with her after everything they'd gone through and talked about. _Especially _now that Winry was living with Riza for the moment, and was likely to walk in at any time.

"I swear, Riza, I'm not trying to pull anything, or trick you into anything you don't want to do. I just...I don't know." He looked at her helplessly, praying that she would somehow understand and grant him this one thing.

Riza gave him that same measured look from earlier, and said "Winry might be coming home soon."

"And I fully intend to be gone by the time she comes."

She still didn't look convinced, though, and he heaved another sigh. Roy ran his hand over his face, then draped it across the back of the couch cushion, waiting. After a few moments, he said "Just a couple minutes, Riza, that's all."

She looked away from him, eyes skating over the conjoined rooms, and then sighed and sat down. Riza was just as rigid as she had been when standing up, ramrod straight back just barely brushing his arm still draped across the top of the couch. They were exceptionally close to each other, with her elbow brushing his side, and their thighs pressed up against each other, but it wasn't a comfortable closeness. It was more the kind of closeness that came with misjudging the space and sitting down too close to a person, or miscalculating just how much the cushion would tilt into the person seated. Through his exhaustion, Roy find it kind of amusing that even though they had slogged through the excessive trials of human vice, ambition, and lies, and had aged themselves far beyond their natural years, they were still just two awkward teenagers without a clue what to do when seated beside each other.

He took a breath, then settled his arm around her shoulders. She stayed stiff for a moment, trying to figure out what he was doing, and what he meant by the touch, then relaxed. Roy couldn't help but smile as Riza gave up all sense of pious propriety, and rested her head on his chest a few beats later. He wrapped his arms around her as she brought her feet up onto the couch, completely giving into him. Roy's chest ached at just being able to _hold _her. He'd never done that before.

In all the wide range of things they had done together, from holding hands, to dancing around an ice cream parlor like idiots, to her throwing her arms around him in a last ditch effort to keep his seems together, it had never felt like this. Probably because most often any sort of personal contact they'd had so far had been caused by immediate pain, suffering, and his spectacular inability to cope. But now...they were just touching because they felt like it, because words weren't enough and looks weren't enough and _nothing ___else __was enough to express how they felt.

"I've missed this," he whispered into her hair.

"Missed acting like a couple? It's only been, like, __two days__, Roy."

"No, this, right here...I have missed holding you every day of my life since I met you."

And even though she snorted, probably rolled her eyes, and said that he was ridiculous, he knew that she understood. He could tell by the way that she delicately wound her fingers through his that she had been wanting this sort of intimacy as well. It was completely different from sharing secrets and going on crazy escapades together, and belonged in an entirely different _galaxy_ from having sex, because there wasn't anything needed or expected.

There was no need for consoling, or reprimanding, or repairing here. He didn't try to break things, or shout, or kiss her, and she didn't have to cajole, reprimand, or comfort. He wasn't a raging inferno, and she wasn't his little rain cloud, both working and suffering together, and yet still remaining completely alone. They were together, content and the best kind of bittersweet happy they could be.

They did not talk as they sat together. It was an awful, wonderful stretch of silence that was born out of contentment and pain of the best kind, as they both thought about just what they had gone through to get to that moment. Roy turned his head and pressed his lips against her hair, loving her in that moment so much that it almost physically hurt.

It was a little difficult for him to swallow just then, as he realized that his everything had been built on Riza Hawkeye. His goals, his ideals, his very _joy_ saw her as the foundation. And it wasn't just because she was clever and pretty and was amazing at the violin, and it wasn't just because she was just about the only person in the world that was willing to walk with him through hellfire of his own making, simply because he needed someone to lead him back out again. It was because of her everything, and realizing that now made Roy ache, because he didn't know how he could feel so much and never be able to explain any of it.

So he didn't try, he just closed his eyes and held her tighter, hands pressing her so close that he could hardly breathe. Riza seemed to be feeling the same way as him, because she was curled up into a tight little ball, and he could just imagine her scrunching her eyes closed, trying to block out all of the horrific things that faced them outside of this moment.

But then Roy opened his eyes, and though it killed him inside, he knew that hey couldn't stay there for forever. He gave Riza one last squeeze, then let her go. She reluctantly sat up, almost looking like she wanted to cry, and then gave him a small smile.

"You had better get going. Winry...she could come home at any time."

He mumbled some sort of assent, but it took him a moment to actually stand up and go get his coat from the table. Riza lingered beside him, tugging at her shirt sleeves and looking a little lost in the world. He smiled at her as he paused by the door, wishing that there was something he could do or say that could seal up a moment so tragically perfect.

Riza brushed her finger tips against his cheek and he caught them in his hand. Roy pressed her fingertips to his lips, giving her a small smile as whispered good bye. He then turned to face the street, and the end of the calm before the storm.

* * *

><p><em>AN One of my favorite things about this chapter is that it is so exceptionally personal without being intimate. I don't want to 'force' it onto Roy and Riza by having some personal calamity happening that required the other to step in and fix everything, I just wanted it to happen because they are two very close people, and sometimes just need to <strong>be<strong> together to feel really content. _

_I guess that's kind of the theme for the love Roy and Riza - they just need each other to feel content. Not to be happy, necessarily, because their love operates independently from their quality as a person (see Roy's atrocious past with vices and pettiness, and Riza's problems with communication and emotional isolation). Edward and Winry, on the other hand, have their love and quality tied closely together, so that their love brings out the better parts of each person __(when they're not screaming at each other ;) )__, which only strengthens their attraction (see Winry baking Edward a pie, and Edward giving Winry a blanket to sit on to spare her coat)._

_Tonight - Lykke Li  
><em>_Dark Tower - Miniature Tigers  
>My One and Only Thrill - Melody Gardot<br>Whiskey Dreams - Wild Child  
><em>_The Next Ten Minutes - Jason Robert Brown_


	41. Tenuto

_AN I feel like all of my chapters are progressively becoming shorter and shorter. By the time the story is finished, you guys will have only hundred word little blurbs to wrap things up._

_BUT UGH THIS IS SO SURREAL I HAVE BEEN WRITING THIS THING FOR YEARS NOW AND I'M NOT SURE I EVER EXPECTED THINGS TO GET **HERE** AND I JUST HAVE A LOT OF EMOTIONS OKAY?_

* * *

><p>Winry glanced around the room, then sighed through her nose. She knew that she had suggested this, but it didn't mean that meeting with everyone and getting down to brass tacks was the most comfortable thing in the world.<p>

Around her was Edward, Alphonse, Ling, Ran Fan, Roy, Riza, and the rest of Roy's crew. They were all sitting in Riza's dining room, and more importantly, staring at her. She had just finished recounting her tale, and was waiting for it all to sink in.

For those that were just now hearing the story, their expressions varied from shocked, to piteous, to disgusted. A second passed, until Havoc broke the silence with "Sorry guys, but I can't get through this without a cigarette."

Winry looked at him, and they were caught in an awkward moment of the both of them realizing what he had just said. Riza rolled her eyes and snapped both of them out of it by saying, "Use the back door. You've got two minutes. Rinse your mouth when you're done."

"Well, now that we've broken the ice, let's get to it," Roy said, leaping on the break before their could get off topic. "We've contacted the police, so they're going to be dealing with the bulk of the problem."

"So what're we here for?" Ling asked, leaning back in his chair. He had been largely silent since he had walked in, and his characteristic smile had been absent for almost as long.

"There's still a little nitty-gritty stuff that we can figure out that the police can't. The Ouroboroughs know that Winry's going to run screaming to anyone that she can, so they're going to have to act fast. Their best bet would be to take Winry out of play for good, which I'm pretty sure they wanted to do to begin with."

"Why did they kidnap her in the first place?" Falman asked, looking deeply troubled. "Winry's got absolutely no connection to _anyone_. It makes no sense for her to be ransomed."

"They were trying to get to me," Edward said. His voice was clipped and his expression said that he was still pretty pissed at just thinking about it, but his voice was controlled. "They've been trying to get me to join the gang for ages, no idea why. They figured out we were friends, and...grabbed her."

"It does make sense," Ran Fan admitted. "You've got no important connections to chase after you, other than Edward, and he's not likely to go pull political weight to get things done. If Edward joined, they would probably have let you go, and then held both of your lives over the other's head. It's vicious, but it makes sense."

"Right. Our problem is that while they're trying to grab Winry once and for all, they're going underground, if they're smart. Once they disappear, they're gone until the police give up, and by then, we've lost our advantage," Roy continued. "They have a guy inside the school, so they'll know the second the police start rooting around. _But,_ they don't know how much we've figured out, and what we'll be looking for. If we wait until _after_ their grab for Winry, then they'll have disappeared until after we've all left high school, and that will be it."

"So what is it we're looking for? I mean, it's great that Winry can describe some of the members, but all of those guys that attacked Winry aren't just going to be wandering around the school," Fuery said, looking a bit bemused. "Plus it's just her word against them, and if they're as good as you said, then they'll have covered their tracks in case they get hauled into court."

"That's the thing, though. If we can just get _one _member, we can tie them to a whole lot more than a single kidnapping."

"Not to mention aggravated assault," Edward muttered, settling a little farther back into his chair. Roy ignored him, and kept talking.

"Riza and I...we're pretty sure that they've tried using school kids to coerce people into working with them before."

Winry blinked and looked up, feeling that they were all tripping along the edge of an iceberg, and were about to tumble into the deadly waters below. She had heard the basics of this, but the details were about to be sewn all together in a few seconds, this she could just tell.

"From what Madame Christmas told me...the Ouroboroughs have had their fingers in all sorts of important companies. They threatened the CEO or whoever's children, and then...if they wouldn't fall in line, their kids would suffer. Like what happened to the Hughes' family."

"_What?_" Alphonse demanded, staring at all of them. He passed over the faces of Roy and his friends, as if having expected them to keep the secret, and settled on Edward and Winry. He seemed to deflate at their unhappy expressions, as they both had more or less come to the conclusion over the last few days, but still didn't enjoy having it reaffirmed by Roy.

"Are you serious?" Alphonse asked weakly, running a hand through his hair. "_This _is what we're trying to take down? Lunatics that frame and try to kill _kids?_"

"Yes."

"And how are we going to do that?" Ling asked. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised at how dark his voice had turned. Gone was the silly, perpetually hungry smiling boy from class. This was a harder version of Ling, one that Winry suspected he took great pains to hide.

"You're talking a lot, Mustang, but there's not much being said. I need to know what it is you expect us to go along with. You guys might feel totally fine dragging yourselves into a big, messy, political matter that's spread all over the news, but that's not for us. Not only to Ran Fan and I have to look after visas, but we also can't get caught up in some scandal while we're here."

Roy closed his eyes, as if expecting Ling's response. He nodded, working his jaw.

Winry exchanged a glance with Edward, feeling her chances slip away. She hadn't thought about Ling's position within the country being at jeopardy when this whole thing came to light. Plus she had been hoping that Ling's rather grandiose background would be enough to tilt things in their favor, but it seemed he was placing being a diplomat over friendship.

She pursed her lips at the thought, not liking how true it rang. Ling would certainly help, but he simply could not allow himself to be directly involved.

"If you two want to leave, I'm not sure I should tell you, for plausible deniability's sake, if this goes south on us."

"Leave?" Ling asked, raising an eyebrow. His big smile was back, and he folded his arms. "I dunno about Ranny here, but I'm not going anywhere."

Ran Fan turned to frown at him, tension obvious in her neck.

"Ling, I don't think it would be wise to—"

"Hey, I didn't say we'd be involved, but I'm not going. I wanna hear what it is that you guys are planning. Plus, I'm not above offering a little off the books help."

Ran Fan gave Ling a full on scowl, then settled back into her chair.

"I stay with Ling," she grumbled, clearly biting back everything else she wanted to say.

"Alright. Anyone else out?"

"What, someone's out?" Havoc asked, having just walked back into the room. He looked a little bit more pulled together than before, but the furrow in his brow said that he wasn't quite comfortable with the situation yet.

"Ling and Ran Fan can't offer any official help," Breda explained, then sighed through his nose. "Hell, and I thought we were all coming over here for some sort of game night or something."

"Not quite," Riza said, giving a tired smile.

"It sure does explain a lot, though," Breda continued. "Why you and the Colonel have been so freakin' tense lately, and all that. How long have you been sitting on this?"

"Not long, just a couple days. Winry coming to us was really what got us going, then we had to think of a game plan before we started telling people. "

"So what _is_ the game plan, because I'm really freakin' tired of these asshats making my life hell," Edward grunted, slouching a little further in his seat.

Roy rolled his eyes at Edward's bravado, then said, "Rather than try to nail the gang members themselves, we're going to try to find out just who the Ouroboroughs have in their pocket. After that, we tell the police, and then we're out."

"Until this all goes to court," Falman added, slowly looking more miserable by the second. "You know, Roy, I _really_ wanted to get through my fourth year without any of the _crazy_ you pack along. I really, really did."

"You can go if you want," Roy said, shaking his head. "I swear, I don't want to make any of you feel like you have to do this. I get that this is dangerous and insane. If you don't want to be a part of it, I will hold _nothing_ against you. We're only doing it because we're morons and it's personal," Roy said, giving a dark laugh as he gestured at himself, Riza, Winry, and Ed.

There was along moment in which everyone glanced at each other, the door, and the table. When no one left, Roy nodded.

"Okay. This is it. There will still be chances to back out, but guys, there can't be any balking the moment we are in the thick of it. If you've got any reservations, let us know _before_ we commit to a plan."

There was a small rumble of stressed laughter, and then things started happening so fast that Winry could hardly keep her head straight. She put her head in her hands after a while, trying to keep her brain from exploding. By the time they were finished, there had been so many back tracks, deletions of certain plans, insertion of other plans, and then huffy exclamations and objections, that she could hardly keep it all straight. Thankfully Fuery was making detailed notes, if his frantic pen scribblings were any indicator, so she wouldn't have to rely solely on memory.

There was a small lull after they had finished, in which everyone looked at each other and seemed lost.

"Is this it, then?" Winry asked. She knew that she had drawn some looks, as she hadn't really spoken for the last fifteen minutes, but had instead kept her head in her hands as she traced in the grain of Riza's table with her eyes and she listened. She looked up, not caring about the red marks that were undoubtedly on her forehead.

"Is this...what we're really going to do?"

Riza gave her a solemn nod, and Roy gave a soft "Yes". Winry sighed, and leaned against Edward's shoulder, too tired to bother keeping up the strong front.

"Okay," she murmured, "okay. It sounds...not _reasonable,_ but I think we can do it."

"Remember, we're just finding out a name," Riza said, voice turning gentle. "You just have to show up for a few hours, then we're whisking you away. After that, we'll do the work and then it's off to the police."

Winry forced herself to give a small smile, even though Riza's words didn't make her feel very reassured. They were still sticking their heads into a lion's maw, no matter how quickly they were pulling it back out.

Edward squeezed Winry's hand under the table, and Winry closed her eyes. She was just ready for all of this to be done with.

* * *

><p><em>AN For such a short chapter, this was a really touch chapter to write. I had to pull together all these people, make sure they have a say in the chapter, remember who knows what, detail this, explain that, asdfjkl; it's a lot. But now that I'm over the hump, hopefully things will be much easier.<em>

_Puzzle Pieces - Saint Motel  
>Stand By Me - Playing for Change<br>Epigram - Tycho  
>Lisztomania (Classixx Version) - Phoenix<br>Someday - The Strokes_


	42. Fury Oh Fury

_AN I AM SCUHREEEEEEEEEAMING YOU GUYS DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND. I have spent the last couple of days doing some hard core writing, and I am here to tell you, that I have finished the story. It is done, complete, ready to be uploaded. I have screwed around for an embarrassing four months, almost to the day, and I done with making you guys wait. Here you go, the remaining 15,000 or so words of this story, all uploaded in one day. You get to enjoy the entire last chunk of the story all at once, my gift to you after all of this terrible waiting._

* * *

><p>Winry's stomach was dead set on tying itself into a giant knot as she walked to class. The thought of walking back into the lion's den, despite whatever noble, decent sentiments that lay behind it, was absolutely terrifying.<p>

It was Monday, and just like they had planned, Winry had returned to school to lure out the Ouroboroughs. It had seemed kind of reasonable, surrounded by friends in the comfort and privacy of Riza's home, but now...now it seemed absolutely insane.

The other girls in Winry's dorm had been as bubbly and welcoming as ever, handing out '_Hi, Winry!'_s and _'Did you have fun?'_s and generally making her head hurt. She kept thinking that the Ouroboroughs' spy was always watching her, switching from person to person. When she had retreated to her bedroom to change, Winry had to take a few moments to put her hands to her eyes and try to keep from hyperventilating. She could _do_ this. If she was going to be any help at all, she _had_ to do this.

In the end, it was the smell of pie still lingering in her room that made her pull herself together. She had made sure to give Edward the pie over the weekend so that it wouldn't go to waste, and just the memory of his expression made her smile. He had looked like she was giving him a piece of the sun, and took special care taking it from her. Of course, he had protected his grumpy, ungrateful image by tossing a _'you're going to make me fat this way',_ but it was exceptionally half-hearted and only made her smile more.

There were still good moments in the world, even though her life had been recently marred by too many bad ones.

Despite Winry's anxiety, nothing happened to her all morning. Her professors called on her in class, she turned in her work, was sidetracked by conversations with her friends when she was supposed to be reading passages from her textbooks. Everything was normal.

Lunch was a little less normal, as everyone had to pretend like nothing was happening. Ling ate enough food for two people, Roy was cocky and clever as he passed by, Breda and Havoc were boisterous as ever. But everything felt strained. Winry didn't know if it was just her, but there seemed to be more frowns that usual, less general conversation. The situation was taking its toll. Hopefully it would all be over before there was too much damage.

The rest of the day passed as normal as ever. For Winry, that was almost worse. Her nerves were compounding into something nightmarish, making it so that she could barely do her homework, and couldn't go to sleep. She tossed and turned, stealing half hours of rest before waking up and fretting.

The next day was a little better. Winry was now convinced that she wasn't about to be grabbed every time she turned a corner, but she couldn't rid herself of the anxiety. As the day dragged on, she kept thinking about the shrinking window of opportunity, and how if they didn't do _something _and fast, then the Ouroboroughs would go underground, and then all of their chances would be gone.

"Hey, Ed," she found herself calling in the hallway. Edward turned around, trying to locate the person talking to him in the crowded hallway. She waved her hand and called out again. Edward caught sight of her, nodded, then pressed himself against the wall to wait for her.

"What is it?" he asked, expression turning serious. Winry stifled the urge to roll her eyes, because she had definitely warranted that kind of concern over the last few days.

"Nothing serious, I just...you wanna help me with my Winter Concert piece?"

"I—what? Oh, uhm, yeah. Isn't Ling helping you now, though?"

"Officially, I have no idea. Honestly, though, I'm going to pop if I have to go back into the lunch room and pretend like everything's okay. I can't take this waiting thing."

Edward nodded and turned back towards the end of the hall.

"Okay, I get it. Just let me grab something to eat. Al will literally shit a brick if I don't get lunch after all that I've put him through."

"How are you two, anyways?" Winry asked, vividly remembering their fight in the grocery store parking lot.

"Good enough. He doesn't want to break my nose, anymore."

"That's good!" Winry said, then took a moment to realize that her definition of 'good' had been severely skewed since coming to Central. Edward shrugged, expression still a little cloudy.

"Yeah, I guess. I think he's just prioritizing things, more than anything. Once all of this..." he said, waving his hand vaguely around the court yard, as if to encompass their situation "...is cleared up, we'll have a lot to deal with. Thankfully we'll be on break by then, so it won't be _too _public."

"Oh, but your dad will be back by then, right?" Winry watched Edward carefully as she waited for a response, noticing the considerable pause he took. When he spoke, though, he didn't sound upset or bitter like he typically did when discussing his father. Now, he just sounded hesitant.

"Maybe. He didn't really give me a set time..."

They made small talk about nothing as they hurried across the grounds and into the cafeteria, which was noisy enough to stall proper conversation until they exited. Winry didn't mind, though. After spending a rather embarrassing night of hysteria with Edward, Winry could handle amiable silence.

"So, uhm, how is your break going to go? What are you going to do, I mean. You said you were going back to Resembool?"

"Yeah. It'll be weird, honestly. I've been keeping in touch with my friend Harry, but I've become so used to the city!" she laughed, casting her eyes around at the various luxurious buildings that could be seen beyond the school wall. "It'll be kind of strange not having everything at my fingertips."

"What will Garfield do while you're gone?" Edward chuckled. Winry cracked another smile, trying to imagine how the man would react. There would be plenty of crocodile tears, and passive aggressive coercion to stick around for the two weeks of break, to be sure.

"He'll cope. It'll be good for me to get back into the shop in Resembool, though. There is a _lot_ of automail down there, not to mention normal prosthesis. All of those people have had to go nearby towns for repairs or tune ups."

"So you'll come back for two weeks, scoop up all of their customers, and then disappear into the night."

"Yep. As much fun as it's been, working here and getting to see all of this different automail and to learn different tricks and the like, there is something really nice about working on pieces you've helped craft and take care of since you were a kid."

"Pinako's pieces last that long?" he asked, looking surprised. "I knew they were really durable, but I didn't think they'd be _that_ good."

"Mm-hm. I think the oldest in town is...eight years? Nine? Of course, we've fitted it out with new features and updated parts as we've needed, but it's still the same piece she started out with."

"That's cool. Do you have anything else planned?"

"Not really. After the last couple of weeks, I will be completely content to just loaf around and do _nothing_, all break."

"I get that," Edward laughed, and nodded. Obviously, Winry wasn't the only one feeling the after effects of the Ouroboroughs' interference.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Winry's form of shock had begun to finally wear off, leaving her with an entirely new anxiety. The end of the term was coming, and she couldn't exactly say she was prepared. Playing a bit of catch up wasn't that terrible, though. She just had to orient herself, and then practically grind herself to dust on the grindstone, so no big deal (Winry rolled her eyes every time she said that to someone, because, okay, _yeah, _it wasn't _so _terrible, but it really wasn't all that fun, either).

The biggest worry on her plate was her song for the concert. The concert was just at the end of the week, but the memorization of her piece was proving difficult. She spent afterschool in the music building, furiously trying to cram as much of her own damn music into her head as possible. She would have thought that because _she had written _the dumb thing, she would have been able to rip it out in a heartbeat, but that was sadly untrue.

After an hour and a half's hard work, Winry was finally satisfied that she was at a place that she could comfortably leave off for the day. She packed up her things from the practice room, then entered the hall.

Winry frowned, staring out the window. It was dark, much darker than she suddenly found herself being comfortable in. Granted, there were lamps all along the main pathways, but something inside her was stubbornly insisting that she _not_ go out in the dark. Not now, not alone, not with her having _just_ been kidnapped.

She checked her watch. It was quarter til six. She called Edward.

"Yeah?"

"Ed, hey, it's Winry."

"I know." He knew? Did that mean she was recorded in his phone? Winry quelled her momentary giddiness to focus on the matter at hand.

"Uhm, I'm in the music building, and it's really dark out, and I just don't feel...very safe. Could you come...walk me home?" She closed her eyes t how idiotic she sounded, pressing her fingers into her forehead.

"Sorry, I know it's stupid."

"Stupid? Winry, don't be an idiot. You're doing the smart thing here. I'll be over in a couple minutes. Which entrance will you be at?"

"The back," she said, internally sighing from relief and gratitude. Edward Elric, despite his smart mouth and grumpy exterior, was a knight in automail armor.

"What were you doing there?"

"Oh, I was working on concert stuff. My song is weirdly tough to memorize, for some reason? I keep wanting to say one thing when I wrote another, or play this chord when it should be that, and it's completely messing me up. It's kind of a nightmare. Plus, I get so nervous with Ling there in practice. He just seems too happy and nice, I hate to disappoint him with a mistake or something."  
>"That is...absolutely ridiculous, you realize that, right? He's you <em>teacher,<em> it's kind of your _job _to make mistakes in front of him. Otherwise, you'd be the teacher."

"That shockingly cynical, Ed."

She stifled a grin as she just _heard_ him roll his eyes.

"Oh, hey, someone else is calling me. Can I talk to you in a sec?" he said, sounding surprised.

"Hm? Sure," she said, then said good bye and hung up.

Winry left the hall to the practice room. She smiled to herself at the thought of Edward being at her beck and call, then told herself that that _wasn't _what a boyfriend was for...but that she was alright if she made use of him that way sometimes.

"Hello?"

Winry jumped as someone spoke behind her. She turned around, heart slowing a little when she saw who it was.

"Oh, Kimblee. Hi."

"Hi, Winry. Didn't expect to see you here."

"Didn't expect to see anyone here. I thought I was the last one in the building."

"Nope, not this time," he chuckled, hand in his pocket. He was just coming out of a practice room, but there was no light on, and he didn't have his French Horn or music with him. Winry fervently hoped he hadn't been in the middle of making out with someone when she had come by.

"What are you...what're you doing here?"

"Oh, just checking to make sure the practice rooms are clean and the lights are off. Stuff like that."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's something for the older advanced students to do. Teaches them responsibility or some crap."

He offered a pleasant smile, and Winry laughed, but she couldn't forget the wriggle of distrust in her stomach. She had felt it the first time they met, and, granted, it hadn't appeared in any of their other encounters but she felt it now.

...Though she had been feeling that _a lot _lately, but she didn't have the wrench or the patience to ignore it today.

"Here, I can walk you out."

"Oh, I've got a friend coming to walk me home."

"Yeah? Good idea. Who is it?"

"Edward," she said noting the way he still started walking, as if to lead her out.

"You guys are pretty close, aren't you?"

"Not really."

"Oh? You guys are always together when I see you. Except for the last couple weeks. I don't mean to be nosy or anything, but did something happen over the weekend?"

"Mm? No," she said, making a point to look straight down the hall. It seemed like he was searching for something. And why did the advanced students have to go check the practice rooms? She had never seen or heard of such a thing before.

Winry's desire to walk with Kimblee decreased suddenly, and not just because she didn't really know him. There was something about the idea of continuing to be alone with him that made her skin crawl, and she really didn't want to find out why.

"Oh, uhm, Kimblee, sorry about this, but I've gotta go to the bathroom real quick."

"I'll wait for you." His expression said it was an offer, but she noticed the way he firmly planted himself by the entrance. She gave him a thankful smile, then disappeared into the girl's bathroom.

Winry's fingers were on her phone before she was even in the main bathroom.

"Hello?" Edward asked, sounding surprised.

"Hey, Ed."  
>"Why're you whispering?"<p>

"Because I'm in the bathroom."

"_What—"_

"Sh. Quick question. Do the advanced students have to go through the music building and check the practice rooms at the end of the day?"  
>"No?"<p>

"Not even the older ones?"

"Not that I've ever heard of. Why?"

"Because Kimblee is apparently here to do nothing but aggressively insist he walk me out of the building."

"_Kimblee_? What does he have to do with you?"

"I know, nothing!" she said, almost forgetting to keep her voice low. "I wasn't sure, but now I'm definitely worried. He just...was so insistent. I don't feel right around him."

"Are you sure you're not just—"

"Edward, _no. _Would I be calling you in secret from the freaking bathroom if I was just being a little paranoid?"

"_No," _he admitted. "Do you think he means to hurt you?"

"No... how far out are you?"

"Another minute if I walk."

"Could you run?"

"Yep," was all he said before hanging up. Winry broke into a little smile, then glanced around the bathroom. She didn't really want to have to wait until Edward showed up to return to the hall, neither did she want to go out before him. There wasn't a second entrance for her to ditch Kimblee through, and she couldn't really think of a convincing reason for him to leave her alone. She sighed through her nose, and settled her phone back into her bag.

Winry wasn't really sure what came next. She didn't know if she saw something from the corner of her eye, or if she heard something, or just _felt_ something coming. She just turned and suddenly she was being shoved into the wall, Kimblee's hands on her shoulders. Her scream was cut off when her body made impact, the air rushing out of her. She blinked away the stars, furiously trying to struggle out of his grip despite how slow she was moving.

"You're a pretty lucky kid," Kimblee snarled in her face, grabbing her hands. "Most people wouldn't have been able to get out of that warehouse, but this time, you won't get a second chance."

"_Get off of me!_" she hissed, trying to slam her arms against his chest and afford her some room.

"I swear, if you try _anything _this time, we won't screw around with tying you up and stuffing you somewhere. We will _throw you into the river, _first sign of trouble. Do you understand? _Do you understand?_" he yelled at her, and Winry clenched her teeth.

Again, this was happening again. For the second time in two weeks, she had caught in an attempted kidnapping, with people screaming in her face and holding her down. Winry didn't even care about how he was part of the Ouroboroughs, and only vaguely made the connection that he was the informant in the school. Her jaw was aching from how hard she was clenching it, and there were tears pricking her eyes, but she didn't care that she seemed scared or weak or whatever, because she _was._ She was also determined as hell not to be taken again.

Winry slammed her foot down on Kimblee's foot, right at his ankle. He gasped in pain, and she shoved both of her fists into his chest. As he stumble back, she kicked him in the side of the knee, and then _bolted._

She shoved herself out of the bathroom, tearing for the stairwell. She would have loved to run out of the building and away from Kimblee, but if he was there, at least one of the other Ouroboroughs was probably nearby to help transport her. The thought of Envy or Greed or Lust laying a hand on her one more time made her heart scream even louder in her chest, so she went deeper into the music building.

This way, she could buy herself some time until Edward or Riza or the police could get there.

Winry took the stairs two at a time, yanking herself up by the stair rail when she heard Kimblee's feet behind her. She didn't bother looking back, as that would only slow her down, but she felt like his hands were there, constantly on the verge of grabbing onto her shirt or her hair.

Winry vaulted out of the stairwell and onto the third floor. She sprinted down the dark hall, stomach flipping as she raced by empty and darkened classrooms. Images of other gang members racing out at her made her run even faster, hating her fear and hating them.

She yanked open the door to one of the storage rooms left unlocked for students to retrieve instruments from, thankful for the patches of light from the windows to keep her from sprinting into a baby grand. Winry could hear Kimblee not far behind her, and she knew that she wouldn't outrun him. She had to hide, she had to go to a place where she could call someone and not be found.

She took a sharp turn, ducking low so that the rows of pianos would hide her. As an afterthought, Winry climbed underneath one to the small office tucked in the back. It was used as yet another storage space, stacks of sheet music lining the shelves and cabinets. But perched on the desk, already plugged in, was a music player. Winry checked to make sure something was in it, then turned it on just as Kimblee walked into the room. She held her breath and left the office on her hands and knees, thankful for the cluster of timpani blocking her from his view. She knew the boy was scanning the room, trying to decide where she was. She scrambled away from the office as quietly as possible, knowing that she would only have a few seconds before the music started up and he would investigate.

The sound of an etude by Chopin started up from the office, quiet at first, chords and scales running together and setting her teeth on edge. Winry swore at irony as she clambered around a concert grand piano and a cello, freezing when she heard Kimblee's quick footsteps to the office.

She wedged herself in between two cabinets and behind a bassoon case as Kimblee gave a flat laugh and said, "Clever girl. It'll only buy you a few seconds, though." She grit her teeth, throwing her blazer over her head and turning on her phone. She frantically sorted through her contacts to call Riza, suddenly furious with herself for not memorizing people's numbers.

"Hello?" Riza asked, and Winry held her breath, heart screaming, lungs shrieking for air. The music was too quiet to mask her voice, so she waited.

"Hello? Winry, are you there?"

She closed her eyes, listening to Kimblee move out of the office and turn to the other side of the room, waiting, waiting, terrified that Riza would hang up. She tried slowing her breath, knowing that her panting would only slow her words down.

"Winry, are you there? Is something wrong?"

The music grew into a quick series of chords, and then she breathed, "Riza, they're here, they-they found me."

"Where are you," she asked, voice turning into granite.

"The music building, th-third floor storage. Kimblee's a part of them."

"What—Kimblee? Are you sure? What's he doing?"

"He's looking for me," she whispered. A crash sounded from the other side of the room, and she jumped, trying not to scream. She shifted her blazer ever so slightly so she could see, and saw that he had pushed over an empty instrument case.

"Winry, _are you okay_?" Riza demanded, obviously having heard the crash as well. Winry put a hand over her mouth to mute the sound of her breathing, and said "For now. Edward's on his way over, but there might be others."

"I'll call Captain Armstrong," she said, Riza's calm efficiency a relief to Winry. She nodded, then remembered to whisper "_Okay, _gotta go."

"_Be safe,_" Riza said, and then Winry hung up. She chewed on her cheek, then risked one more phone call.

She punched in Edward's number, praying Kimblee was still occupied, and waited for the rings.

"_Winry, _Winry, I can't find you."

"Kimblee's part of the gang," she told him. "Third floor, storage room. He tried to—"

"Hold on, I'll be a few seconds," he interrupted, and Winry bit her lip at the panic in his voice. She hung up, clenching her hands and _praying _he'd make it before Kimblee found her.

Kimblee's voice sounded, and Winry jumped at how close it was. He was near the door now, probably to keep her from leaving the room. He was on the phone, it sounded like, his voice tense and annoyed.

"—I know this is it! Just get your ass up here, and we'll get her...I know, that's not really an option. Get Bradley up, too. We need all the information we can get."

Winry clapped her hand over her mouth, horrified. _Bradley_? As in, _the headmaster_? A horrible amount of sense was suddenly being made, and it made her sick. They had all ruminated on the possibility of one of the staff being in with the gang, Bradley's own name had even been mentioned, but she had never truly considered it _likely._ The man had always seemed so polite and proper, iron hammered into an upright shape. The thought of him having betrayed her and all of those other students just because of the gang, for whatever reason, was terrible.

Kimblee hung up, and then started moving again. Winry grit her teeth, waiting, waiting, hoping he would move past her so she could escape into the hall. She clenched her hands around her phone, praying that she would make it out alright.

Kimblee suddenly reached down and grabbed her, making Winry scream. She flailed as he caught hold of her hair, laughing.

"I knew that phone call would shake you," he sneered at her, yanking on her hair. "One little sound at the wrong time, and I knew exactly where you were, Rockbell. Don't feel so clever now, do you?"

Winry slammed her fist into the side of his knee, and Kimblee again staggered, swearing at her. His hand was still around her hair, so she clawed at his fist, hoping he would let her go. She was just considering biting him when something crashed into his side. Kimblee let go of her hair as Edward landed on top of him. She scrambled to her feet as the two fought, unable to look away.

Kimblee may have been much larger than Edward, but he was at a distinct disadvantage. Not only had Edward taken him by surprise, but he was also trained in combat. Kimblee also didn't possess a set of metal limbs.

Kimblee reached his feet first, but a quick kick sent him stumbling. Edward reached up and landed a solid punch into the other boy's stomach, metal fist sinking in with no mercy. Kimblee was knocked off his feet, coughing and gasping for breath.

Instantly, Edward was grabbing Winry's hand and tugging her to the door. He pushed her out first, pausing a moment to grab a music stand. Edward jumped out of the room and slammed the doors, positioning the stand in place and giving it a vicious kick with his metal leg. The bottom of the stand wedged into place underneath the doors, preventing them from opening, despite Kimblee's angry hammering on them.

Winry turned to stare at Edward, at a loss for words, but he just grabbed her hand again and said, "_Come on!_"

She ran with him, skipping down the stairs and bolting out of the music building. Now that he was there with her, Winry felt less terrified. She was still scared, of course, but it wasn't _just her _any more. She didn't have to be unceasingly brilliant and strong and brave to ensure her survival anymore, she had someone else to help.

Edward led her across the grounds, sprinting past both of their dorms. She gasped for air, legs feeling like they were going to give way at any second, but she kept running. When Edward led her off of the grounds, she grunted and tugged him in the direction of Riza's house, and he nodded, immediately adjusting his direction.

When they reached her house, Riza yanked open the door for them, waving them inside. Winry practically collapsed on the table, while Edward leaned against a wall, too agitated to sit.

"Are you alright?" Riza asked, her voice wound tight enough that it might snap. "Did either of you get hurt?"

"I'm fine," Edward bit out, then looked at Winry. She blinked and shook her head, thinking that her anxiety was worse than the pain of Kimblee yanking on her hair. Though, after that run, she _did_ kind of feel like her lungs were on fire, and that she might vomit.

Riza's dog bounced around their feet, reduced to panting and furious tail wagging once he realized they weren't paying attention to him. Winry glanced down at him. She suddenly remembered her own dog, buried back in Resembool. She clenched her teeth and bit back a sob, wishing she had never left home.

"Good. I called Captain Armstrong, and she was bringing up a group. I also called Roy. There's not much he can do, but it's always good to know."

Winry nodded, unable to do more than stare longingly at the sink. Riza understood, and immediately got her a drink of water.

"You said Kimblee was after you?"

"Mm—mm-hm, he-he was the one that chase me. He also c-called the others, and it soun-sounded like they were here."

"Okay. Okay. This isn't good," she sighed, closing her eyes. Winry realized that Riza was cracking, her strong, mature façade breaking apart to show a scared girl almost her age. She also noticed that Riza was holding a gun. She didn't ask questions.

"So what are we going to do?" Edward demanded, voice raw and angry. "Do we just sit around and wait for the police to _try_ to clean things up? If they run in there with the lights and the sirens, then the Ouroboroughs will be outta there in two seconds." He paused, then snorted to himself.

"There went our nice, shiny plan."

Winry cracked a flat smile, thinking about the time they had spent at this very table, trying to concoct some sort of way to stay involved. All in all, it had required several disguises, a few misdirects, and some skulking around after hours. In the end, though, it had been completely useless. The gang had sprung at their own time, and they had all been rather naïve to think otherwise.

"Then we just come up with a new one," Riza said, and Winry could see that she was pulling herself back together. Edward looked over at her, clearly chewing on some biting comment.

"You're right, we need to keep the Ouroboroughs on the grounds long enough to have at _least _one of them arrested. So how do we do that?"

"Can't trap them. No way we could threaten them. So we just have to stall them," Edward said flatly. It didn't take much to tell that Edward hated the idea.

"So what can we do?" Riza asked, sitting down at the table. They both turned to look at her, expressions blank. She straightened, hands flat on the table.

"We need to stall them, like Edward said. How do we do that? Come on, we need ideas."

Edward and Winry looked away, furiously trying to search their brains for answers. Winry leaned over and pulled Riza's dog into her lap, wrapping her arms around him for comfort. He squirmed at first, then fell still.

"We don't know where they are," Edward pointed out. "They'll be searching for Winry, that's obvious, but we'll probably miss them if there's only one or two of us."

"So we get the whole group in," Riza said, like that was the obvious thing. "Other than Ling and Ran Fan, they all said that they would help, and they knew what they were signing up for."

"We can't just ask them to go harass a _gang_," Edward huffed, scowling at Riza. "These guys—they could kill us."

"That's never stopped you before," Riza pointed out, smile thin. "We've got the advantage, though. We know the layout of the school, and they don't. Aside from Kimblee, that is."

Riza's expression didn't really change, but Winry thought she heard her voice turn dark and sour at the mention of the boy. She wondered just what she was thinking.

"So we get their attention, then _hide_?" Edward asked. "_That_ sounds like a great idea. Why the hell didn't I think of it?"

"I know you're worried and stressed here, Edward," she said, voice full of ice, "but that doesn't mean you have to be an ass about things. We are looking for a solution, and if you aren't going to help, then you can leave."

Edward slumped back in his chair, mumbling out an apology.

"The best thing would be for me to be seen," Winry murmured. Edward shot her a glance, but didn't say anything. "They're after me, right? So they'll all run to catch me. And they know Edward's helping me, so there's that. If they see _everyone_ out trying to get them…then they'll probably get suspicious."

"We can't just let you go out there _alone."_

"I know. But we're running out of time," she said, looking from Edward to Riza. "If we don't do something fast, then we'll miss it all, and kids will continue to be hurt. I'm willing to risk it if you guys are."

Riza's mouth was an unhappy line, and Edward's eyes were furiously begging her to _not do this,_ but she didn't waver.

"What do you want to do?" Riza asked. Winry sighed, trying to ignore the tremor in her breath.

"They just need to see me, right? So we channel them towards me, deep in the grounds so they can't just slip away when Captain Armstrong and the police show up. Then we try not to get caught."

"That sounds awful," Edward told her. Winry shrugged, thinking the same thing.

"What else can we do?"

"I'll go with you," Riza said. "I can keep you safe if they're chasing us."

Winry glanced at the gun on the table, stomach curling against itself.

"No, Winry's right, the fewer people they see with us, the better. They probably know a good deal of the student body, and if they see you, then they'll probably guess the Colonel's in on it, too."

Riza sighed, and rested her forehead on her hand.

"So what should I do?"

"Try to help as quietly as possible," Winry said, offering a small smile. "I still want someone else to help distract the Ouroboroughs, but I just…I don't want anyone getting shot."

"Fair enough. So that's the plan? Send you two back, pull together the others, trying to distract the Ouroboroughs long enough to get the police here, and don't shoot anybody? Sounds great."

Winry gave a thin smile, but didn't say anything. They all knew how dangerous this was becoming, and they all refused to say it.

* * *

><p><em>AN WHOA SHOCK WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT KIMBLEE WAS A BAD GUY?<em>

_Back of a Truck - Regina Spektor  
>Fury Oh Fury - Nico Vega<br>Ballade No. 1 Op. 23 - Chopin  
>Piano Concerto in G Minor No. 2 Op. 22 - Saint Saens<em>


	43. Marcato

_AN I wish the chapters were a little more balanced length wise, but literally, starting with chapter, was the point where I realized, holy crap, I don't know what I'm doing, and word vomit began to occur. I'm going to be honest here, I focused more on getting things out than keeping them tight, but I knew that if I went back and tinkered like I normally do, it would never be done. Please forgive any heinous mistakes!_

* * *

><p>Roy dropped by just as they were leaving, there to pick up Riza. His expression was dark and tense, though he did manage to give them both a nod, and touch Winry on the shoulder.<p>

"How is it?" he whispered to Riza. She shrugged and gave their outline of a plan. Roy scowled, but didn't say anything.

"And what can I do? There's not much room for setting fires and hoping for the best," he murmured to her. Riza's smile was just as tight as Roy's, making Winry suspect there was something the two weren't sharing.

She turned back to Edward, reaching over and squeezing his hand.

"Are you ready?"

"Sure. Phone good?"

"Mm-hm."

"Okay. We're going," he announced. Roy and Riza turned to look at him, and both gave a terse nod.

"Be safe," Riza repeated. Winry nodded, wishing they had a little more time, wishing something else could be said.

Edward and Winry hurried back onto the grounds. Her stomach continued to squirm, making her feel vaguely sick.

"What about Al?" she asked after a moment. "Do you want to call him in?"

"_No,_" Edward said, hardly needing to think it over. "I want as few people in on this as possible. These guys are _maniacs,_ Winry, people can get hurt." Winry knew all of that, but she _also_ knew that having about twenty more people on her side would make her a _lot_ more comfortable.

_That's what the police are for,_ she reminded herself. Then she held her breath, because the police made things feel so much more real.

"No, we want as few people here as possible," Edward continued. Winry wondered if he was talking to reassure himself. "The Colonel and Lieutenant are out here, so their friends might be here as well, and Ling and Ran Fan aren't going to be a part of this…okay, so until the police arrive, the numbers are pretty much even."

"Assuming the ring leaders of the gang are all here."

"They're here," Edward said grimly. Winry didn't argue.

They crept a little deeper into the grounds, jumping at every unexpected noise. Winry was squeezing Edward's hand so tight, that the blood flow must have been cut off, but he didn't complain, and she wasn't about to let go.

"How do we find them," she breathed after a while.

"Not sure. They might head for your dorm."

"But there are people there!"  
>"…Mine, then. At least block it off, in case they thought we might want to get something from there. Yeah, there will be someone posted."<p>

Winry nodded, even though Edward couldn't really see her, and they made off in that direction.

Sure enough, as they crept closer, Winry could make out a figure against the darkness. They were just barely darker than the building, but as they watched, the person shifted. It was Greed. She could tell by the sheer size of him, tall and imposing compared to her and Edward.

Winry glanced at Edward instinctively, squeezing his hand a little bit tighter for reassurance.

"It's okay, Win," he whispered. Somehow, hearing the fear in his voice made Winry a little more confident. At least she wasn't alone in thinking they were stark raving mad to try baiting a bunch of lunatics until the police arrived.

"I trust you, Ed." Winry desperately hoped these wouldn't be her last words.

Edward nodded, then turned sharply on the walkway. She jumped and stared at him, the gravel beneath their feet making an unearthly amount of noise. Then she looked at Greed, who turned to face them.

His smile was absolutely _wicked_ in the moonlight.

"_Run_, Winry!" Edward barked, shoving her behind her. Winry stumbled, her mind barely able to keep up as she broke into a sprint, but she was used to it by now. She felt Edward at her back, a protective barrier between her and Greed as they ran for…where ever. Winry realized that she was in the lead, she was guiding them, and it was her responsibility to direct them to an area that would be difficult for Greed to get out of before the police came. Her mind panicked and gave her a white noise of _I don't know I don't knowIdon'tknowIdon'tknowIdon'tknow!,_ but then it clicked into place and she adjusted her course.

She could hear Edward's panting in her ear, could hear Greed's pounding feet as he ran, the echoes of him calling one of the other Ouroboroughs out to help him, but she kept running, trying to work her way towards the main building. All of the gates there were locked, and even if he tried to hop the wall, the police station was in that direction, and cruisers would be upon him in seconds.

Winry gasped as she felt Edward yanked away from her. She skidded to a halt, horrified to see Greed flip him over his shoulder. She gasped at the sick sound of Edward's body hitting the ground, torn between wanting to continue running, and wanting to help. But how _could_ she help, she couldn't fight, she couldn't threaten Greed.

"It's been a while, kid," Greed mocked, pinning Edward down. "We haven't fought one on one in _ages,_ and I really wish I could stick around to rub it in, but I've got work to do." He jerked his head towards Winry, which made Edward struggle even harder.

"Oh, come on, I'm a sick bastard, but I'm not gonna do _that,_" Greed drawled, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "It's just that, well, girlie there's been a bit of a hassle, and we can't really leave loose ends hanging around, y'know? So we're just gonna clean her up, and be done with it."

Edward tried swearing in Greed's face, but the man just punched him, making Edward groan.

"Seriously, kid, word of advice. Don't piss off the guy twice your size, pinning you to the ground."

"Greed! What are you _doing_?"

Winry's stomach jerked at the sound of Envy's voice, and she fell back a step. He appeared out of the darkness, on the far side of Greed and Edward. He was speaking to Greed, but his eyes flicked up to Winry. They're expression said '_hold on a sec',_ a promise that he would get to her soon enough.

"Oh, _come on,_" Greed repeated, actually sounding annoyed, now. "You get to taunt people all you want, but the second _I _try anything—"

"Stuff it. We've got work to do. Deal with the runt, and then help me with the girl. I wanna take care of this before anyone else gets their hands in things, _especially_ Bradley." Envy stalked towards Winry as he spoke, but she was too terrified to move. She looked frantically at Edward, who seemed to be searching furiously for a plan.

"Yeah, we don't need that to worry about," Greed said, though it sounded more like resignation that proper agreement.

"Sorry, kid, it's been a real blast, but work is work."

Winry was just forming some sort of insane plan to leap on Greed's back and knock him off balance, when sirens shrieked over the city noise. Greed snapped his head over to look at Envy, their dread rivaling her surge of relief. The police were close.

Envy glared at Winry, and she remembered that the police being close, in their cars, blocks away, was a very different thing than having a squad actually at her side.

"C'mon, Greed, axe the squirt before the cops get here. The bitch probably called them while Kimblee was dicking around with her in the music building."

"If she's called the freakin' police, then they probably know everything," Greed argued. He sounded upset, like he was actually worried about being arrested. "This whole thing hinged on getting rid of her _before_ law enforcement were hauled in, but if they're coming now, you can bet your ass that they know everything! If she disappears, they're going to be hounding us—"

"I don't give a shit! If we're out of here before they arrive—"

"Then we'll be on the run!" Greed shoved himself away from Edward, getting to his feet. Envy snarled at Greed, but it was suddenly apparent just how much larger than Envy he was. Greed was a full grown man, dwarfing the youths around him. Envy seemed to realize this fact as well, as he didn't challenge Greed further.

"Look, if the police are here, we are gonna get bagged, no matter what. And if I'm going to prison, I'm not adding any more crimes to my list. Hell, if I play it right, they might even let me off if I help them."

"_What,_" Envy hissed, fists clenching at his sides. "Are you _seriously_ telling me that you are going to turn _traitor_?"

"I guess," Greed said, smirking just to upset Envy further. "It's been fun with you guys, it seriously has, but, like you guessed, I'm a greedy son of a bitch, and I much prefer the pleasures of life as a traitor, than as somebody's prison bitch."

Winry tore her eyes from the two arguing, and looked at Edward. He was getting up slowly, clearly preparing himself to fight. In the week light of the walkway lights, she could see that he was moving gingerly, carefully trying not to upset the bruises Greed had just given him. He looked at her, demanding that she run, but Winry shook her head. She wasn't leaving him, not now, not after everything.

"Hope you two make it out," Greed said, glancing at Edward and Winry and giving them a vague hand wave. "You two are pretty fun. I would hate for you two to end up at the bottom of the river."

"You can't _do_ this! Your head will be on a stake before the month is up!" Envy snarled, clearly outraged that Greed was turning his back on the gang, now, when it was vital that he stay.

"No such thing as 'no such thing,'" Greed tossed over his shoulder, flipping Envy off as he walked away.

Envy whirled around the glare at Winry, focusing all his fury on her. He didn't say anything, but his body language was shrieking threats at her. Winry turned to run just as he lunged at her, but Edward was there, grabbing his legs. She looked over her shoulder at the thick sound of impact, and she saw that Envy had kicked Edward in the face. He slammed the sole of his boot into Edward's chest to loose him from his legs, and then he was scrambling up.

Winry couldn't help but shriek was she moved faster, trying to get out of reach. She darted closer to the main building, praying that she might be able to out maneuver Envy. She whipped around the corner, not even thinking about a real plan, just feeling the intense need to _get away,_ and then she saw the boy, standing on the walk to the front entrance of the building.

_"Selim!_" she gasped. In that second, she made a decision, the need to protect the boy overwhelming her own sense of self preservation. She grabbed the boy's hand, probably screaming out something about him needing to run, but her slowing down even enough to take Selim's hand was enough for Envy to reach out and grab her hair. She screamed as she jerked back, feet nearly slipping from underneath her.

Then Envy nearly fell on top of her, tackled to the ground by Edward.

"_Winry,_ get Selim out of here!" he yelled, trying to wrestle Envy into submission.

"Come on, Selim, we need to go!" she gasped, reaching for his hand again. To her immense shock, he pulled away. The backwards motion really did make Winry lose her footing this time, and she landed hard on the grass.

"Selim?" she asked, the air knocked out of her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to do my job!" he snapped at her, and then jerked over to Edward and Winry. Before either one of them had time to do anything, Selim shoved Edward away from Envy. Winry stared, wondering if she had hit her head, and was now seeing things.

Envy writhed to face Edward, and gave him another blunt kick, this time in the stomach. He reared back, looking like he might be sick. Winry barely had enough sense to claw her phone out of her pocket, knowing that they _couldn't do this,_ that they had to call someone, they _had_ to get help.

"Get out of my way," Envy snarled at Selim, pushing him aside. He stalked towards Winry, and she thought this was it, this was more or less the end. They had tried _so hard,_ and yet it was all pointless.

"What are you _doing_?" Selim demanded, sounding young and very, very afraid. Winry clenched her teeth, forcing herself to press commands into her phone, to not look up and stare stupidly at the exchange before her.

"What the hell do you _think_ I'm doing?! You're a smart little kid, right? When you're contacted by a bunch of _gangsters,_ what do you think's going to happen to the people they ask you about?"

"What—no! No, this wasn't—this wasn't how it was supposed to work! Kimblee said—"

"Kimblee is a damn _liar,_ you little moron. I dunno what he told you, but we were _using_ you," Envy sneered, his attention completely removed from Winry. Even when she gasped and pressed her hand over her mouth, he barely afforded her more than an ugly glance.

"I was supposed to be _helping!_ I was—I was making things better!" Selim protested, looking like he was trying very hard not to start yelling, or break into tears.

Edward was stirring now, but Winry didn't think he would be one his feet for some time, certainly not soon enough to fight Envy. He looked at her, saw what she was doing, then gave a slow nod. He pulled his own phone out of his pocket, and silently began working it as well.

"Oh, you did help us. All we needed was access into the main office," Envy continued, now caught up in his tirade. He was drawing a vicious sort of pleasure from tearing whatever illusions had been built up in Selim's head. "Once we had that, we could do what _ever _we wanted. Really, we should be thanking you, but somehow, kid, I don't think you'll be getting a fruit basket."

"W-why," Selim whispered, like he couldn't bear hearing the words, but he had to know.

"I guess we never _did_ tell you what all we were using the information for. Not the truth, anyways. We were targeting students," Envy spat. "We found out their schedules, whether they lived on campus, and then we picked them off as we needed. We've come so far because of you! It would have all been fine, if this little bitch hadn't gotten awa—"

Envy turned to look at Winry, and stopped dead.

"What are you doing," he asked, but he knew full well. Winry gave Envy a snarl to rival his own, and stopped recording the scene with her phone.

"You think that's going to stop us?" he demanded, voice harsh from strain. Despite his big act, he was worried about Winry's video. "All I've got to do is wreck that little phone of yours, and then get rid of you. _All_ of you, if you don't do as I say," he spat, whirling to look at Selim.

Edward launched himself at Envy one more time, truly taking him by surprise. He tossed his phone aside as he moved, and Winry scrambled to grab it. He had started recording once he realized what Winry was doing, just in case something were to happen to her phone.

Winry turned back to the fight, just in time to see Edward slam a punch home to Envy's head, his metal hand gleaming horribly in the orange light of the street lamps. Envy went limp, and instantly Edward was yanking off his jacket, making a make shift bind for Envy when he regained consciousness.

Winry looked over to Selim, who was still standing in the same place, wringing his hands. He looked so horribly young, then, a child swept up in the ruthless goals of others.

"I didn't know," he told her, and then broke into full on sobbing. Winry moved over to him, and pulled him into a hug. She didn't have anything to say.

* * *

><p><em>AN Initially, I was veeeeeeeery tempted to make Selim a more conscious part in the Ouroboroughs' plot. In fact, most of my early ideas about the ending had him as the The Big Bad, where he had orchestrated the whole thing to earn his father's approval. Then some form of common sense caught up to be, and yanked that idea from the drafting board. Honestly, this entire shake down was much more fantastical, including many weapons, more people, some big, grandiose schemes, and people being wired. <em>

_Suffice to say, this was scaled down. A lot. I'm actually a little worried it's a bit anticlimactic this way, but it's also much more realistic, so here we are._

_Two of Us On the Run - Lucius  
>Killer - The Hoosiers<br>Trials of the Past - SBTRKT  
>Lost Song - Olafur Arnalds<em>


	44. Truth

_AN Oooooo, watch the chapters shrink. This is me wrapping up loose ends, so forgive the small chapters. Also, I said it last chapter (maybe?), but here it is again - apologies for stupid mistakes, this chapter literally had no editing beyond a quick spell check._

* * *

><p>Things went like a dream, once Envy was unconscious. Edward was still supremely wary of the rest of the Ouroboroughs' ring leaders showing up, or Kimblee launching at them out of the dark, but the campus seemed bizarrely peaceful.<p>

He and Winry were just discussing what to do next (whether to leave Envy alone to go find the police cars now obviously stationed outside the campus, or for one of them to stay behind to watch him, and if so, who), when a group of police in full combat gear moved towards them. Winry flagged them down with the phones clutched in her hands, and soon they were swarming all over them, checking for injuries, asking if they were alright, demanding to know what had happened there. Adrenaline was still rocketing through Edward's system, and he thought that he might start firing off punches if they didn't back up and give him some air, when Lieutenant Miles appeared out of the dark.

"Edward, Winry," he called, waving to them. He wasn't wearing his iconic sunglasses due to the later hour, and his dark red eyes looked tired and relieved. "Are you okay?"

"We're fine," Edward bit out. Miles took one look at his twitching hands, and gestured at the two of them.

"Come with me, then. Captain Armstrong will want to see you."

Edward immediately began moving after him, but when Winry tried to follow, Selim gasped and grabbed onto her shirt. She looked at them, then at the boy. That ugly, hard part of Edward didn't understand why she had mothered him so much, as he had been instrumental in the Ouroboroughs' plots to attack students, but he also knew that he had been used more than anyone else. He clearly thought he had been doing something…well, something not absolutely heinous, at the very least.

Miles cast an intrigued eye over Selim, but didn't say anything.

They recounted the whole event to Olivier once the medical team had made sure that they were alright, wrapped up in blankets and safely nestled in a bed of police officers. She had listened to their story with the same, unimpressed, stand offish silence as always, but once they had finished recounting everything, she had raised an eyebrow and said, "It's impressive, I'll admit. You can explain the rest of it back at the station, but…it's impressive."

That, Edward figured, was the most praise she had delivered in the last three months. When they had told her that they had two recordings of Envy's confession, she had even allowed a half smile. It wasn't enough to absolve Edward of all the dislike she had built up towards him, but the giant shining mark on her record that Edward had just handed her certainly didn't hurt.

Soon enough, they had been carted off to the police station, where they gave a full account of _everything,_ from Edward's history with the Ouroboroughs, to Winry's kidnap, to the escapade they had undergone that night. Selim's parents were at the station when they arrived, and Selim was quickly escorted away by his frantic looking mother, and his very grim looking father. King Bradley may have been informed that his son's part in the whole plot had been under false pretenses, but that didn't change the horrendous smear caused on the family's reputation.

In that moment, Edward was thankful that he had even someone as absent as Hohenheim as a father, instead of the man putting a forbidding hand on Selim's shoulder.

Once, they had even caught a glimpse of Roy and Riza as they waited. Roy offered a serious nod, while Riza allowed them the same sort of relieved smile Miles had given, upon seeing them safe and sound. Edward had responded by giving the same sort of nod as Roy, while Winry gave a tired grin, and waved at them.

By the time they were released, it was well past midnight. Edward had been reluctant to say good bye to Winry, but she was being driven home in a different car. She had given him a tight hug, which conveyed all that a few seconds' worth of words would never be able to, and then she was gone. He watched the car disappear down the street, wondering how he was supposed to rest, even though he was dead tired.

Even after he had been dropped off back at his home, Edward had found himself pacing the halls. The officer returning him to his home hadn't even raised an eyebrow when Edward directed him to Hohenheim Manor, but he couldn't suppress a squirm of self-consciousness. The pragmatic part of him said that he didn't want to be bothered with the chaos of a crime scene, and that he didn't really want to be a lone right now, so a manor with servants in it was a much better choice than an empty dorm. There was also the fact that didn't know if he'd be able to sleep in the building that had housed the lying, traitorous bastard that was known as Kimblee, ever again. When he went inside, though, he couldn't drag up the will to go upstairs to his bedroom. Edward settled for collapsing into one of the large arm chairs in a downstairs study, and was trying to force himself to sleep when the door slammed open.

_Al,_ was his first thought, as he had directed the police to him when asked about family, and because no one else was likely to be running through the manor in the middle of the night.

He hoisted himself up out of his chair, and began stumbling towards the sound. Edward had just reached the hall when he saw Hohenheim, looking flustered and anxious. The two stared at each other for half a moment, then Hohenheim grabbed Edward up in a desperate hug. If Edward hadn't been so shocked (and touched), he might have remembered that he had some vicious bruises on his chest and stomach, and that he kind of wanted to throw up every time they were pressed. As it was, he allowed his father to continue the bear hug.

"_Oooooh, _my son, I am _so sorry," _Hohenheim breathed, voice actually _hurting_ Edward with the levels of regret in it. Edward gave a few strange, half gestures as he fought between the basic reaction to hug his father back, and the sudden inner turmoil of if he was actually _able_ to. Having a civil conversation via phone was _very_ different from actual physical contact with a man Edward had been actively despising for years.

"For, uhm, for what?" he asked. Hohenheim didn't answer at first, just took Edward by the shoulders and stared at him.

"This was all my fault."

"What?"

"All of this-this-this _nonsense_ with the Ouroboroughs, I could have stopped it, I could have done _anything,_ and you wouldn't have had to risk your life tonight."

Edward stared at his father for a few seconds, blinking and trying to process his words. Finally, he said, "Mind running that by me again?"

Hohenheim sighed, then smoothed his hair. Edward noticed that he looked a complete mess. Granted, his father was never particularly fussed over his appearance, but he typically didn't look like he had been shoved down a hill. Now, though, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair looked like it had been sloppily pulled back, and his coat was only barely hanging onto one shoulder.

"If I had been a little stronger…the Ouroboroughs contacted me some months ago," he began explaining. "It was all part of their rather disgusting plot to expand. They weren't satisfied with being gangsters any more, you see. They wanted to become the mob, and to do that, they needed money and power, more than they could make on their own. So they turned to the high and mighty of the city, and…used their children as leverage." Hohenheim sighed again, as if just speaking the words tired him out.

"It was very clever. After they took credit for the injury of one child, most all parents were desperate to save their children. Of course, it was kept so quiet, no one even knew it was happening until the Ouroboroughs appeared at their door. So when they came to me…I should have known, Edward," he said, looking like an exceptionally tortured individual. "Given your rugged history with them, I should have known you would be…especially what happened to the Hughes boy. After that happened, I started investigating, and he…it turns out that his father was causing some trouble for the Ouroboroughs. And the girl framed for the accident, Maria, I think her name was, her father blatantly refused to cooperate. After that, I became afraid, Edward. I was worried what they might do to you, so I did nothing. That, it seems, only seemed to cause you an even great amount of grief. It's rather cliché, but if not for me, you and your friends likely would never have suffered. I am sorry."

"Wait," Edward began, raising his hands. "_Wait. _You're telling me that all of this…them chasing after me, trying to recruit me, attacking me, attacking my _friends, _all of it happened because they wanted to get to _you_?"

"Yes. If I were a more vicious business man, then…but it was a clever idea, trying to recruit you. Then they would have had all the money and influence they wanted, if they could twist you the way the needed. It was a very desperate move, honestly. Clever, but desperate. Then again, using King Bradley's son as an inside source on students at school…that has proved to be the most desperate, yet the most successful."

There was a long pause between them, and then Edward cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So, uhm, why're you…I didn't think you'd be back, yet. Business to take care of, y'know."

Hohenheim gave him a wry smile, and shook his head.

"I only left the city because of the Ouroboroughs. Their threats were becoming more serious by the week, and I decided that I needed to gather allies against them. That's why I left, though regrettably, real work did interfere, causing me to miss your birthday." His smile became a little warmer, and a little more uncertain. Edward suddenly realized they were playing on his terms, and felt exceptionally guilty. He hadn't meant to twist his father around like that. He just…had been childish.

"S'okay," he grunted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Your hand," Hohenheim said. Edward looked up at him, confused.

"You're not wearing gloves," he explained. "You always used to. But you're…not, now." Hohenheim trailed off, looking embarrassed at the exclamation. Edward shrugged, praying that exhaustion was playing tricks on him, and that there wasn't really a flush creeping up his neck.

"Oh, uhm, yeah. I decided…I decided I didn't really need them anymore. I mean, I'm seventeen freakin' years old, I can let people see my hand."

Hohenheim didn't say anything, but the look on his face clearly said that, though he hadn't guessed why Edward had worn the gloves, he was pleased to see Edward's progress. Edward hated the way it also said that he was sorry. Hated it, but also kind of enjoyed it, as well.

* * *

><p><em>AN I would love to expound on the mending relationship with Hohenheim and Edward, but, like all of the other little intriguing things about this story, I have literally zero ideas.<em>

_Truth - Balmorhea  
>Can't Stop Me - ProleteR<br>Valse Oubilee No. 1 - Franz Liszt_


	45. Resolution

_AN I have literally been WAITING for this chapter for years. There are a couple scenes in here that I truly adore, and once you reach them, you'll be rolling your eyes and going 'Oh, _ha ha,_' but really, you'll find them just as charming and delightful as I do._

_SCREAMING 45 CHAPTERS OH MY GOSH THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT AUGH._

* * *

><p>Winry walked to one of the concert halls on campus, trying to keep Alphonse in sight amidst the crowd. It was a few days after the final confrontation with the Ouroboroughs, and yet there she was, sauntering along like nothing had happened.<p>

The whole school had been buzzing about it, as everyone on campus had been awoken once the police arrived on the scene, but no one other than the faculty seemed to know Winry's part in it. Or any of the other students involved in it, honestly. It was very strange, she thought, how all of this chaos could occur under hundreds of peoples' noses, without them ever realizing. To the vast majority of the school, she was just another kid, one who may have been able to squeeze a little more information from the police than others, but certainly not one that had been playing an active plot in the whole fiasco.

She had been offered a sort of waiver on her midterms by the school board, who were fairly desperate to go back into her good graces, should she take offense to their gross lack of attention. Winry had declined, though, because she had worked for months on these test, and she damn well better take it. The police had also offered her some form of witness protection, but the idea of being quarantined until the case went up for trial was absolutely repugnant to her. It had taken some finagling, but she, the lawyer appointed to her, and the head of police worked something out, so that she was able to continue her life as close to normal as possible. She had also managed to swing her return to Resembool for the break, as long as an officer accompanied her the entire time. Winry frankly didn't mind, if it meant she was able to get out of Central and back to the peace of the countryside.

Butterflies hummed in her stomach as she entered the concert hall, and took a seat beside Alphonse. She wouldn't be performing her song for a few hours, but she couldn't help the thrill of excitement and worry. Winry had actually taken the majority of her tests, so there was only her concert for choir, and her original composition. Yet, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of nerves as she settled into a seat in the dim theater. This was Edward's final exam, the concert where he was to perform a small number of songs. Winry sat on her hands, excited to be able to listen to him play freely.

A few students played before him, their songs an assortment of brisk, frenetic things, to mellow, charming pieces. Alphonse leaned over to her to make a comment on the song or performer on occasion, but mostly, they sat in silence as the music washed over them. Winry smiled to herself as she picked out the songs and styles, able to distinguish the time period they had been written in, and even who had composed them at some points. Just a few months ago, she had been internally groaning at the music obsession that gripped the place. Seems it had slipped into her without her even noticing.

Then it was Edward's turn. She held her breath as he was introduced, and he came out on the stage. He wasn't wearing his gloves. Winry noticed a small ripple through the crowd as they all caught on to this fact, but Edward ignored them as he bowed, then walked to the piano. He settled, paused for a moment, then began a brisk song by Mozart.

The audience listened, and gave enthusiastic applause when he finished. Edward stood and gave a polite smile, then moved to the microphone. He gave them the name of the song he had just performed, then cleared his throat, flashing a nervous smile.

"The, uh, the next piece I have to play is a piece by Chopin," he continued. Winry allowed herself a knowing smile, and wondered if Edward was doing the same, "It's a beautiful piece, one that I have really enjoyed learning. Now…" he paused, seeming to decide something, then took a breath.

"Now, here is a nocturne for a lady."

Winry gave Edward a curious look as he returned to the piano bench, wondering just what he had meant. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath, then began to play.

_Nocturne in E Flat Major, Opus 9, No. 2._ Winry broke out into a full on grin, beaming at Edward as he played the song. His hands seemed to be truly waltzed over the keys, slow and deliberate, but stunningly serene in their skill.

This was the song he had been playing when they first met, when they had broken into a virtual shouting match and he had kicked her out of the practice room. And the lady part, that was in reference to his conversation with Alphonse, about how he had said she wasn't one (Winry had informed Edward she had overheard the conversation over the weekend, and he had broken into mortified laughter and flustered apologies).

It was for her. This song was for her.

She pressed her hand to her mouth, wanting to break into full on laughter. Winry closed her eyes, trying to soak in every note. The song ended too soon, leaving an almost empty silence after. The crowd again applauded, then quieted to allow him his final song.

_Un Sospiro, _the program said, a song full of airy arpeggios and a heart breaking layer of sorrow underneath the beauty. Winry found herself holding her breath as she watched him play, then smiled and let her breath go. She stared at his hands, coming to realize just how much skill Edward had. His floated over the keys, the notes a strange, continuous stream, even though his left was continually crossing over his right, then snapping back to its place. His touch was so soft, even though his right was made out of metal. She kept expecting the right hand notes to stick out, to be loud and ungraceful, or for there to be a tell-tale click as his fingers met the polished wood of the keys, but there was nothing. Just the song, continuing to fill the hall with its melancholic wonder.

Winry leaned back in her chair, unable to help the tears that just barely brushed against her cheeks before dropping to her lap. She was in complete awe at the music, Edward, the wonder of his automail arm. She knew it would sound ridiculous to anyone else, but her mind kept dragging itself back to the prosthesis. She had once commented on the superiority of her grandmother's automail, compared to other makers, and the old woman had corrected her.

"They're not just great pieces of automail, Winry," she had said, giving Winry a soft smile. "They're not just tools to be used and flaunted, like the newest computer or car. They…I want them to be used to _make_ something, for people to fully realize what they have strapped to their chest or their thigh, and to understand that just because it's not bone and blood, doesn't mean that they can't make things with the same grace and wonder as they could before."

Winry hadn't understood at the time, thinking that it was obvious, people could do almost the exact same thing with automail as they could with normal limbs, and sometimes even more. But watching Edward, she understood. Edward hadn't settled for the excuse that his automail wasn't as delicate and refined as real fingers, that he would never be able to achieve the exalted level of skill he desired with the frank, unyielding mechanics of his automail. He had recognized that literally, the world was at his fingertips, if he only tried.

Winry swallowed thickly, trying to not break into full hideous sobs as she remembered her mother, and as she stared at her and Edward's combined achievement. And her achievement, she realized. She had breathed life into those fingers, just as they had, had poured just as much passion and care into her work.

Edward finished, the chords slowing in a final goodbye.

The theater rang with applause as he stood and took a final bow. Winry clapped so hard her arms hurt to the elbow, but she didn't care. She let out a sobbing laugh, completely disregarding those around her. She pulled herself back after a moment, though, and tried to discreetly wipe her eyes. Alphonse saw, though, but gave her nothing but an understanding smile, and a brief pat on the shoulder, before returning to applauding his brother.

She slipped out of the theater at the intermission, wanting to get some last minute practicing in before her own performance. She would be playing just her song, but she wanted to be absolutely certain she had it down, from the chords, to the bridge, to the chorus. By the time she entered the concert hall where she would be performing, Winry felt confident in her abilities, even though her hands were shaking. She had faced down and outwitted gangsters. She could perform a song for a handful of judges and a rather paltry audience.

Winry forced herself not to fidget as she watched the various students preform, cutting down her doubts the moment they came up. She didn't look around to see who all was there, just focused on her music. When she went back stage, her choir teacher was there to help keep order. He gave Winry a large smile, and patted her on the shoulder with a heavily accented, "_Have faith, and good luck!"_ She forced a smile out, wishing her stomach didn't feel like it had been filled with marbles.

She waited just off stage, compulsively smoothing her skirt, both to remove the sweat from her palms, and to keep from pacing. She hitched a large, honest smile to her face as she was introduced, and strode onto the stage. She gave a neat bow, as instructed, then turned to the piano. Winry stared at the keys, trying not the think about who was in the audience (_was Ed in the audience?_),trying to remember the words to her song. She played the introduction, and leaned forward to sing into the microphone.

When she had considered the theme of her song, Winry had instantly been tempted to sing about the insanity that was her relationship with Edward. She thought about detailing the heartbreak and wonder she had experienced, and how he had made her stomach flip, even when they hadn't been speaking. It had taken a great deal of effort, but she had refrained from writing anything about it.

Instead, she had turned her attention to the struggles of beginning again, of moving on when she honestly had no one to lean on, and being wise enough to accept help from everyone. Winry sang about her time in Central, her nerves having completely vanished by the second verse. She broke into a smile, feeling the absolute exhilaration of performing, and doing it well. Then her song was ending, all too soon, she thought, and she pulled her hands from the keys. She stood up, gave another bow, and walked off the stage.

Winry nearly let out a shriek of joy, flailing her arms at a boy who was waiting for his turn. He gave her a large grin and a thumbs up, then turned his attention to the screen that showed what was happening on stage.

Winry walked into the hallway, so that she could express some of the very verbal delight pent up in her chest. She found herself walking in a circle, wanting to scream, but not knowing what to say. This was the most buoyant she had felt in…quite possibly forever, and she was so deliriously happy that she didn't even know how to express it.

"Winry!"

She looked around to see Edward, smiling at her as he walked down the hallway. She grinned even harder, if that was possible, and broke into a full on run. She slammed into him, hugging him so tightly she thought she might cry. Edward absorbed her momentum with a spin, laughing as she gasped, "_I did it! Edward, I did it, I did it, I did it, oh my gosh, I did it!"_, and babbling and equally continuous, "I know you did, I saw, I saw, I know Winry, you were great!"

Winry kissed his cheek, and squeezed him even tighter, tears finally appearing as all of the stress from the last few weeks melted from her. Edward held her tight, the comfort of the real arm and the blunt strength of the automail arm pressed against her back and promising her safety. He leaned against the wall, both of them crying, and not saying a word.

* * *

><p><em>AN This chapter honestly grew wings, and had about a thousand more words than I intended. That's always one of my favorite parts about writing, because one little idea will present itself, and then just boom into this lovely, hopefully deep little aside. <em>

_Also, _listen to Un Sospiro. _Listen listen listen. That song is grossly important to me, so just...go listen._

_Un Sospiro - Franz Liszt  
>Over the Rainbow - Melody Gardot<br>Put Your Head on My Shoulder - Michael Buble  
>White Heart - Liz Story<em>


	46. More Than Words

_AN IT'S SHORT I KNOW AND SELF INDULGENT I KNOW LET ME HAVE THIS SHHH LEAVE ME ALONE._

_This is so strange for me, you guys, you don't even understand. I started this story when I wasn't even Edward and Winry's age, and I had this big, grand, crazy ideas that somehow cobbled together to make a story. Then I was Roy and Riza's age, and had to rein things in a little bit, because, hooooooooly cow, that was all sorts of crazy, and I couldn't permit such crazy things into my story. Now, I'm older, and I'm finishing it all up, catching the mistakes I made, tying together loose ends, and drawing conclusions for characters to make a complete story. It's very surreal for me, because I've grown with the characters, I've been in high school the same time as them, and have even dealt with some of the problems that they have. My writing has grown, even in these last four months, and it's exciting and exhilarating to see, because there's so much more possibility for me in the world now. This story has been with me, and I've always been thinking about it, even when I haven't bee working on it._

* * *

><p>"It's kind of strange, isn't it?" Riza asked, bracing her legs against the passenger seat of his car. Roy glanced at her, then shrugged.<p>

"Kind of. I just…I dunno if it's because I wasn't there to see it be sorted out, or what, but it feels like it's all still going."

"I know," Riza sighed, resting her head against the headrest.

They were seated in the back seat of Roy's car, overlooking the river. Riza had wanted to go somewhere after the chaos of their final exams, and since it was too cold to do anything outside, they had settled for staying in Roy's car. Riza had her legs squashed against her chest, while Roy was sprawled out, his legs resting on the arm rest for the front seat.

"What are we going to do, now?" he asked, only half a laugh in his voice. He looked at Riza, who was watching her fingers steeple.

"I don't know. Take up baking? Start a flower shop? Go traveling in search of the world's best nose flute player?"

Roy laughed, and knocked her arm with his hand. She flashed him a smile, then looked back at her hands. He watched her, feeling another layer to his question come up.

"What are we going to do with us?" he asked, voice soft. Riza sighed, but didn't look at him.

"I think my previous answer still applies," she said, mouth quirking. There was a pause, and then she nailed him with one of those horribly serious looks, one that the entire world balanced on.

"What do _you_ want to come from us?"

"Happiness," he said, then gave a bitter smile. The last few months alone were a solid indicator that he wasn't so reliable in that area. "I want…trust, and faith, and hope, and everything good that could possibly come from two people. But I don't…I don't _know_ if we can have that."

Riza watched him for a long moment. He was almost afraid to look at her, but he did. She looked a little scared, as though she desperately did not want what was going to happen next.

"I want all of that, too, Roy. I want to see…where we end up, what we can accomplish together. I want…" She broke herself off, let out a huff of breath. There were tears in her eyes, and he wanted to grab her into a hug and say that he knew, she didn't have to finish, he _understood,_ but he stayed still. This was something she had to say.

"I want to see you happy, Roy. And I want to _be_ happy, not just floating along after. I want us to work together, and to see us both benefit equally, from whatever we put our minds to. But I don't…I don't want to have to wait for it, Roy. I don't want to have to sit around until you get that vote, and—"

Roy took Riza's hand, and pressed it to her lips. She stopped speaking, looking at him.

"I get it, Riza. I get it, and I—I'm tired of pretending, like you said. I don't even know _why_ we—_I_ came up with that, I just…I dunno, I was scared, maybe? I was making more reasons not to try anything with you, and I…Riza," he said, sitting up straight. She looked at him, not sure what he wanted. He was gritting his teeth together, grinding up the courage to spit out what he had been allowing to bounce around his brain in his free time.

"Uhm, yes?"

"I'm done pretending. In two days, I am going to go with you to the winter dance, and I am going to be your boyfriend. I am going to dance with you, and hold hands with you, and kiss you in front of every damn person there. I'm _here,_ Riza, I am committed to you, and I would rather_ die_ than screw things with you. Again."

Riza blinked at him, completely taken aback by what he had said. He kept holding onto her hand, though, staring her in the face and trying to wish away his butterflies, even though he _knew_ she would agree.

"Roy, I—are you sure? I mean, do you really—what about your future? What if this really does turn against you, what if you lose the vote, what if you don't become a fifth year?"

"To hell with it, then. I would rather have _you,_ Riza Hawkeye, than any title, any position, any right or opportunity or power the world could give me. As long as I have _you,_" he said, leaning close and taking hold of her face. "I don't even want to be student body president anymore, because I know that _you_ are more important. If you are here, I can do anything, I can break molds and traditions and expectations and succeed, if you are here with me. I will be fine with whatever the world throws at me, as long as you are here, at my side, doing nothing more than _existing._"

Riza started crying then, the tears actually dropping onto her cheeks as she let out a sob. Roy pulled her into a hug, and kissed the tears from her face.

"How do you know," she gasped, "how do you know it will work out? _Anything_ could happen, we're just kids, I don't—I don't _know,_ Roy, I just—how can you be sure?"

"I'm not," he whispered into her hair. "I'm not certain about anything else in the world, right now, but I _know_ that I need you, Riza, I need you more than I care bear."

Riza had her hands wrapped tight in his hair, and she was shaking from sobs, shocked and relieved and worried and speechless, all at once. This was one thing she hadn't expected from him, ever. Riza's affection and commitment has always been a certainty in their relationship. It was Roy that raised question marks, Roy that was unreliable and distant, never quite saying enough of what he felt or thought.

"Riza," he whispered, wondering if this was going to far, and realizing that he frankly _did not care._

"What, Roy?" she asked, reaching around him to wipe her eyes.

"When we get out of high school, will you marry me?"

"_What?!"_

"It doesn't have to be right away, it can be _years_ from now, but please, Riza, will you marry me? Don't say no. Will you?"

Riza started laughing, her tears and mirth mixing in his hair and dropping onto his shirt. He waited for her answer, scared now, because he _really_ had not thought that question through when it had come out. Was her laughter a good thing? Was she laughing _at _him, too shocked at his delusion to say no right away?

Riza leaned back to look at him, still wiping tears from her face.

"Okay," she said, "okay, sure, fine, yes, let's do it. After high school, let's get married!" She broke into laughter again, holding his face in her hands.

Roy felt the laughter bubbling out of him as well, wondering if he had any right to be so deliriously happy.

* * *

><p><em>AN This chapter is the wicked combination of wrapping of Roy and Riza's story, but also making myself happy. I'm not even guilty about it.<em>

_In a Sentimental Mood - Nancy Wilson  
>More Than Words - The Piano Guys<br>Let's Get Married - Jagged Edge  
>You Will Never Find - Michael Buble feat. Laura Pausini<em>


	47. Fine

_AN This, my friends, is the end. I have enjoyed every moment of writing this story, and it has been an absolute ride, these last three years. I have grown so much as an author, and I have adored the mountains of support you all have shown me. I am absolutely floored by the response, oh my goodness. I have discovered new music, found new insight on the characters, and been inspired by all of the people that have read and responded to this story. I am absolutely flattered that any of you looked at my story and thought it was worth sitting down to read the first chapter, much less the whole thing. In my head, this has been a ridiculous indulgence in my love of music, drama, and romance, but it has also been a delightful exploration of people as they develop and grow and even break under stress. I have valued everything I have learned, and I am honored to have been so graciously supported by you all. Thank you, thank you, thank you, without your wonderful comments and encouragements, this story truly could not have been finished._

_Thank you so much this wonderful experience._

* * *

><p>Winry smiled and nodded, delicately trying to edge her way out of both the conversation and the building. She was at the winter dance, and was seriously wondering if the social aspect of the event was worth the effort.<p>

It wasn't that the dance or the people were unpleasant, or bad in any sort of way, really, she was just dead tired from the last week and a half. She had gone with Rose, more as a last minute, _why not?_ sort of thing, and had dragged on something nice and gone out. She had enjoyed the first half hour of her time there, the conversation, music, food, and even a little dancing living up to expectation, but she was tired of, well, everything.

The dance was at that strange point where people were finally becoming comfortable enough with themselves to actually have fun, but also daring enough to start chancing displays affection. She had already seen a few people break off to find a nice, dark corner somewhere, as well as Roy and Riza sharing a very sweet slow dance together. Her favorite, though, was Havoc. He had apparently lost a bet, and had been forced to wear a piece of mistletoe and a sign saying '_Kiss me, I'm a loser'_. Most of the time, it had led to the general amusement of the party goers, but at one point, when he had been sitting down, Rebecca had surprised him by leaning over his head and giving him an upside down kiss. She had then quickly walked away, while he fell off the floor and looked around at the awestruck people around him. And as fun as all that was, Winry was very eager to step outside and get some peace.

She pushed open the doors, grimaced at the brisk wind slapping her in the face. She wrapped her arms around her, and stepped outside of the building. She sighed, and leaned against the wall. Winry glanced at her phone, thinking that she had stayed long enough to earn an early exit from the party and an early entrance to her bed.

Winry looked up at the dark sky, thankful that she had decided to wear a sweater and thick tights, rather than the breezy, shimmery thing Rose had suggested. As she watched, snow began drifting down, materializing from the dark. She broke into a smile as she reached out for one of the flakes, each a giant cluster. It was the first real snow fall of the season, the snow promising to linger for more than a few paltry hours. It would quite possibly be a nightmare come the morning, but Winry didn't care. It was absolutely beautiful for the moment.

She would be leaving for Resembool in two days. Tomorrow was half day, which she would use to finish up her packing, and spend as much time with her friends as possible. After that, she was back on a train and headed home. Winry felt a thrill of excitement in her stomach at the prospect, but she also felt a mild pang of regret. Despite everything, she had enjoyed her time in the city, and had barely scratched the surface of what it had to offer her.

Garfiel had been a heaving mess when she reminded him of her plans for break. He had started pacing the back room, stammering out protests and pleas for her to stay. At one point, he had simply broken into tears, telling her that she was the most skilled automail mechanic of her age, and that he would be left with a dreadful void while she was gone. Winry had played along, patting his back and saying that, yes, she knew it was tough, and that she would miss the shop every second she was gone, but the tickets were bought and the plans were made, so there wasn't much she could do.

In actuality, Winry longed for the ease of working in her grandmother's shop, and seeing the familiar faces of home. Since Harry had moved into the Rockbell house, Winry would be right there, always able to work like she had in the past. The thought brought a smile to her face.

"Hey."

Winry looked around, unable to suppress a look of surprise as Edward walked towards her.

"What're you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same," he said, shrugging and looking uncomfortable. He was wearing his big red coat, zipped half way up. There was a white collared shirt peaking from between his coat and scarf.

"I'm just escaping the noise. I'm thinking about heading back to my dorm in a little bit. This week…I'm exhausted," she laughed. Edward gave a rueful smile and nodded, stepping a little closer.

"I'm leaving in a couple days," she said after a pause. Edward looked at her for a long moment, mouth pressed in an unhappy line, then he nodded, forcing the smile back onto his face.

"Cool. I bet you'll be glad to go back home. There's, uhm, there's going to be a police officer going with you, right?"

"Mm, yeah. She's a nice woman, I was able to speak with her while we were at the station."

"That's-that's good. I'm glad you met her before you have to go off on a train ride with her."

She nodded, and then they were standing in silence, the awkwardness filling the air even more effectively than the snow.

"Did you, uhm, did you hear that Ling posted Greed's bail?"

"_What_?" Winry stared at him, not quite sure if she had understood what he had said. Edward shrugged and leaned back, looking up at the snow.

"Yeah. I told him about the whole thing, and I guess…he was intrigued. Who knows what's going through that guy's head. He might be planning on conquering the west, using Greed as an inlet to the crime world for all I know. He just said there was something about Greed that he found interesting, and next thing I heard, he'd posted bail."

Anger was starting to spark in Winry at Ling, because she was absolutely appalled that he would do such a thing, especially after all that Greed had helped do to her. But then some of her reason and most all of her exhaustion got in the way, and subdued her.

"Why would he do that? Are you worried he might…?"

"Come after us? Nah," Edward sighed, and suddenly he looked just as exhausted as her, if not more. It wasn't really surprising, Winry thought. He had gone through most all the same things as her, but where she had been holding fear and paranoia, Edward had probably been stocking anger and guilt. Which, knowing how hot emotions burned for Edward, was undoubtedly more taxing. "I figure, if he didn't do anything_ before_ the police were on his back, he's not gonna do it now. Plus, like he said, he was pretty much out for himself. The rest of leaders of the Ouroboroughs are in prison, and he doesn't really care about them. He's going to be a good boy and toe the line."

Winry sighed, and looked out at the city. It was busy as ever, the people continuing on, despite the cold and late hour. The snow gave it a picturesque sort of feel, covering up all of the muck until tomorrow.

They stood there in silence once more, their breath coming out as giant puffs of steam. This one was more comfortable than the last, both of them settling into each other's company.

"You look nice, by the way," Edward said. She smiled at him, unsure if the pink in his cheeks was from the cold or embarrassment.

"Thank you. I wasn't really sure if I wanted to come, but Rose dragged me along. You know," she said, straightening a little, "I thought Al said you didn't really come to these things."  
>"I don't," he admitted. "I just thought, you know, maybe it was time to stop being a grouch and actually get to know people of my own volition."<p>

"Look at you, growing up so fast," she teased. Edward rolled his eyes at her, but he was smiling as well.

"I thought I might go in for some snacks and conversation, but it's getting kind of late," he said, checking his watch.

"I think it'll be okay. You missed the boring parts, anyways. Go in, have some fun, take a few pictures. You deserve a break."

Edward nodded, his eyes focused somewhere around her knees.

"Hey, Winry, do you—I mean, if you want, d'you want to go get a piece of pie with me?" he asked, looking even more embarrassed now. There was also a bright edge of hope in his eyes, pleading that she say yes. "Don't feel obligated," he said quickly, raising his hands. "I mean, you said you wanted to head home, so if you really wanna head back, that's totally fine. I just—if you want to, I mean. The offer's there."

Winry broke into a smile.

"Would this pie happen to be found behind a certain Laundromat?"

"Yep. And I promise I will pay for your half priced pie, like the proper gentleman I am."

"That sounds great, Ed. I'd really like that." She pushed herself up off the wall, and walked over to him. Winry took his hand, and turned towards the parking lot.

"You know, you're going to have to come visit me in Resembool over the break. You and Al, and everyone else, if they want to. But _you_ are obligated."

"Okay. I'll be sure to do that."

"I'll show you around the place, in all its hick glory. You'll get to meet Harry, and see Granny's old workshop, the whole thing.

"I already said I'd go, Rockbell, no need to keep trying to sell me on it!" Edward laughed. He still sounded tired, but he also sounded completely, ridiculously happy.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Alright," she said, smile spreading even wider. She could hardly wait.

* * *

><p><em>La Javanese - Madeline Peyroux<br>__Now that We've Found Love - Third World  
><em>_Se Voce Ama - Melody Gardot  
><em>_One More Time with Feeling - Regina Spektor  
><em>_Nocturne in G Major Op. 37 No. 2 - Chopin_


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